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St. Paul's Cathedral 



EUROPEAN DAYS 
AND WAYS 



JAMES F. RUSLING, A.M.,LL.D 

Brigadier-General {by Brevet} United States Volunteers 

Author of 

"Across America," "Men and Things I saw in 

Civil War Days," Etc." 



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yy-ivi- 



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CINCINNATI: JENNINGS & PYE 
NEW YORK: EATON & MAINS 






' 



THF LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

T\WQ COMfce RtCKIvED 

NOV. ff 1902 

OOPVRtaHT ENTRV 

CLASSCX'XXr NO 

VMrAV 
COPY 6. 




RESPECTFULLY 

DEDICATED 

TO ALL LOVERS OF TRAVEL 

AT HOME AND 

ABROAD 




PREFACE 

F course, there are many Books of Travel, 
and yet there seems room for this one 
more. In 1899 I went abroad, with my 
wife, son, and daughter. We landed at 
Naples, and traveled thence through Italy, Switzer- 
land, Austria, Germany, Holland, Belgium, France, 
England, and Scotland. Before leaving home, after 
much inquiry and searching many libraries, I could 
find no single book covering our entire proposed route 
and these several countries well, and have found none 
since giving things as we saw them. Moreover, my 
son had already been over twice, and so enabled us 
to see, I think, at least twice as much as Americans 
usually see, and to see things twice as well. Hence 
this volume, which really seems needed by Americans 
going abroad, and by others fond of European travel 
by proxy. It is not a Guide-book, nor a "Sentimental 
Journey," but a common-sense account of Europe 
as it is. 

It goes without saying, no two persons see the 
same things when abroad, nor see the same things 

7 



PrGfflGG in the same way. Their opportunities are different, 
and their view-points different, and so, of course, their 
impressions will be different. But I have endeavored 
faithfully to report what we saw and experienced, and 
this volume is the result. In the hope that it may 
prove not altogether uninteresting to the reader, but 
may lighten some dull day or cheer some passing 
hour, it is now sent forth. 

J. F. R. 
Trenton, N. J., 1902. 



For he who knows a book to read 
May travel lightly without steed 

And find sweet comfort on the road. 
He shall forget the rugged way, 
Nor sigh for kindly company, 

Nor faint beneath his load. 



CONTENTS 

Chapter Page 

I. Our Voyage Over — The Azores, Gibraltar, Etc., - 13 

II. Southern Italy, Naples, the Neapolitans, Etc., - 32 

III. Southern Italy, Castellamare, Pompeii, Sorrento, 

Amalfi, Salerno, Etc., 44 

IV. Rome, ----- 64 

V. Perugia, Valley of the Tiber, Apennines, Etc., - - 84 

VI. Florence, - - - 91 

VII. Pisa, ----- 104 

VIII. Genoa, - 113 

IX. Lombardy, Verona, Etc., - - - - - - 123 

X. Venice, ---------- 132 

XI. Milan, 149 

XII. Lakes Como, Lecco, Lugano, Etc., - 160 

XIII. St. Gothard, Lake Lucerne, Lucerne, Etc., - - 166 

XIV. Interlaken, The Jungfrau, Murren, Scheidegg, Etc., 176 
XV. Berne, Zurich, Lake Constance, Etc., - - - - 188 



Contents CHAPTER Page 

XVI. Lindau, The Tyrol, Innsbruck, Etc., - - - 197 

XVII. Munich, - - - - - - - - - 204 

XVIII. Nuremberg, - - - - - - - - - 212 

XIX. Heidelberg, Frankfort, Etc., - 221 

XX. Down the Rhine, - 233 

XXI. Holland, Utrecht, Amsterdam, Etc., - - - 245 

XXII. The Hague, Leyden, Etc., ------ 256 

XXIII. Belgium, Brussels, Etc., 266 

XXIV. Waterloo, - - - 280 

XXV. France, Paris, Etc., .-.-.. 306 

XXVI. England — her Cathedrals, Scotland, Edinburgh, 

Etc., 326 

XXVII. England, Winterton, Epworth, Kin-Beyond-Sea, 

Etc., 34! 

XXVIII. England, Peterborough, Leamington, Warwick, 

Stratford, Oxford, Etc., ----- 348 

XXIX. London, --------- 359 

XXX. Windsor, Canterbury, England, Etc., - - - 375 

XXXI. England in General, 388 

XXXII. Homeward Bound, 404 



IO 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 
St. Paul's Cathedral, ------- Frontispiece 

Steerage Passengers, - 17 

The Azores, - 2I 

Gibraltar, 25 

Strada, S. Lucia, Naples, -------- 39 

Pompeii, Vesuvius in the Background, 47 

Pompeii WagonRuts, 2,000 Years Old, - 49 

Hotel Victoria, Sorrento, -------- 55 

On the Road, Sorrento to Amalfi, - 58 

Hotel Cappuccini, Amalfi, -------- 59 

Positano, Gulf of Salerno, - 61 

Rome from the Dome of St. Peter's, ------ 67 

The Forum, Rome, ---------- 73 

Rapid Transit, Perugia, 86 

Ponte Vecchio, Florence, -------- IO i 

Washing in the Arno, Florence, ------- 102 

The Leaning Tower, Pisa, - - - 108 

Between Pisa and Genoa, - 114 

The Palms, Genoa, ---------- n8 

The Church of St. Anthony, Padua, ...... 12 g 

Market Square, Padua, - - - - - - - - 130 

A Water Street, Padua, --------- 13! 

Grand Canal and del Salute, Venice, ----- ^5 

St. Mark, Venice. Feeding the Pigeons, ----- 140 

S. Giorgio from the Top of Campanile, ----- ^ 

A Typical Bridge, Venice, --------- 144 

Duomo, Milan, 151 

Lake Como, Bellagio, 161 

Lake Como, from Mountain above Menaggio, ----- 162 

Monte Resegone, Lecco, - - - - - - - - - 163 

Washerwomen, Lake Lecco, - 164 

Lake Lucerne, from Rigi, - - - - - - - - 168 

II 



Page 

LiSt Of M ° NCH AND ElGER, ElGER GLACIER, 169 

Illustrations ^ uCERNE - ------------ m 

"Working Like a Dog," Interlaken, - 177 

Avalanche, Jungfrau. First Stage, 179 

Avalanche, Jungfrau. Second Stage, - . - 181 

On the Eiger Glacier, --------- iS 2 

Swiss Chalets, Murren, - - - - - - - - 184 

Berne, ^9 

Ogre Fountain, Berne, - 190 

Clock Tower, Berne, 191 

The Rathhaus, Ltndau, -------- I9 8 

In the Tyrol, Snapshot, - - 200 

Market Square, Nuremberg, ------- 214 

Woman's Rights, Nuremberg, 219 

Frankfort-on-the-Main, - - 229 

Main Street, Marken, - 253 

Women Carrying Hay, Marken, 254 

Natives, Marken, ---------- 255 

Hotel de Ville, Brussels, 271 

Place de La Concorde, Paris, - - 312 

Paris, The Seine, etc., --------- 313 

Versailles, ----- - 315 

Fountain and Gardens, Versailles, 316 

Lincoln Cathedral, - - - 330 

York Minster, - - 331 

The Nave, Durham Cathedral, - 334 

Old English Inn, near Warwick, ------ 330 

Magdalen College, Oxford, - - - - - - - - 355 

The Strand, London, --------- 363 

Houses of Parliament, Westminster, ------ 364 

The Royal Exchange and The Bank of England, - - 365 

Westminster Abbey, - 370 

The Thames, Richmond Bridge, ------- 373 

St. George's Chapel, Windsor, 377 

Canterbury Cathedral, - - 381 

A Big Wave, A Snapshot, - 406 

Welcome Home, 410 

12 




Chapter I 

ND so at last we were going abroad. It What Route 
had been my eager desire since my college 
days. But somehow something always in- 
tervened — business, illness, the war, or 
otherwise — until it seemed we never would get off. 
But now, in 1899, we decided to go anyhow — partly 
for rest, partly for pleasure — and so on May 27th we 
sailed from New York. 

Our first thought had been to make a short trip, 
and go only to England, Scotland, France, and Switzer- 
land; but afterwards we decided to take in Italy, Aus- 
tria, Germany, Holland, and Belgium also. How 
should we go? If to England first, and then down 
to Italy, we would have to pass over the same route 
twice, in whole or part, and take the chances of hot 
weather in Italy. But if to Italy first, we could then 
come north with the summer, and keep always in "fresh 
woods and pastures new." We weighed both routes 
well, but finally decided to go via the Mediterranean 
and land at Naples. 

Our next question was, by what line should we 
go — by swift or slow steamers? The one would take 
five and a half or six days; the other ten or twelve 
days. As we were in no hurry, and wanted the sea 
voyage anyhow, we decided for the slow steamers, 

13 



European and were never sorry we did so. They go plenty fast 

Days and enough — about four hundred miles a day. They are 

Ways more easy and steady in heavy seas, not being ''rushed'' 

so much. And for comfort, enjoyment, and safety, I 

think they are much to be preferred. 

And so we sailed May 27th, as I have said, on the 
good steamer Aller, of the North German Lyloyd Line. 
We left the pier at Hoboken soon after 11 A. M., with 
farewells to the friends who had come to see us off, 
and passing New York and Staten Island (they never 
seemed more lovely) were off Sandy Hook by 12.30 
P. M. Here we struck straight out to sea, and were 
soon out of sight of land. It was an ideal day, with 
May still lingering in the lap of spring, and the ocean 
swells were just enough to remind us that we were 
venturing into the realm of Father Neptune. A little 
land-bird flew aboard and hopped cheerily about the 
deck for a while, but presently stretched his wings and 
departed for Ocean Grove and Asbury Park. It was 
a little incident, but we accepted it as a good omen, 
and bade him God-speed back to America. 

We found the Aller large and roomy, and every- 
thing that could be desired. Her staterooms were 
clean and sweet; her cabin spacious, if not palatial; her 
table profuse and excellent. We had only ninety cabin 
passengers on board, though she had a capacity for 
about three hundred. We had several hundred steerage 
passengers besides, chiefly Italians tired of America and 
returning to sunny Italy. Many, however, were only 
going over for a visit, and expected soon to return 
here again. Our cabin passengers were chiefly Ameri- 
cans bound for Italy and the usual European tour, 

14 



though two or three were going on to Turkey, Russia, Passengers 
and the Caucasus. They were mainly from Massa- 
chusetts, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Ohio, 
and Illinois. But we had one from Mexico, and a 
newly-married couple from Australia. The Mexican 
was a German, who had gone to Mexico in the days 
of Santa Ana, and had served under Juarez against 
Maximilian, and was now a prosperous coffee planter 
and warm friend of President Diaz. He had two 
sons — one a coffee planter, the other a mine-owner — 
and he was never weary of praising Mexico and the 
Mexicans. He declared Mexico was the best country 
and the finest climate in the world, and her govern- 
ment in some respects superior to the United States. 
But he liked Americans, too, and was only sorry more 
of them did not come down to the land of the Monte- 
zumas. He was on his way to Italy and Switzerland, 
where he always spent his summers, returning home 
in the autumn via Germany and England. The Aus- 
tralians were art students en route to Rome and Flor- 
ence, to study music and painting. We had also an 
Italian opera-singer or two, returning for rest and re- 
freshment, and expecting to revisit America again the 
following winter. 

Our New Englanders were largely a "personally 
conducted party," chiefly from Boston and near-by 
places — schoolteachers, business men, etc. — and flocked 
much together, of course. We had also two young 
collegians from New York, just fresh from grad- 
uation, and still frolicsome as colts; also a bevy of 
young ladies from there, who kept the ship from get- 
ting dull. Also grave physicians, anxious bankers, 

15 



European and hard-worked lawyers, from New York, Newark, 
Days and Philadelphia, and other cities, and matronly ladies, the 
Ways wives or friends of these. The Westerners were breezy 
and affable, as usual. We had also two or three Roman 
Catholic clergymen; but these kept much to them- 
selves, though not averse to a talk or smoke when 
duly approached. One was from Washington, D. C, 
a scholarly and modern man, on his way to the "Eternal 
City" to see things for himself. He was as full of ro- 
mance and enthusiasm about Rome as Luther when 
he first journeyed there. I wonder whether he got 
his "eyes open," like Luther also? Or did they be- 
come more than ever hermetically sealed? We were 
two Sundays on the ocean before we reached Naples,, 
but were favored with no religious services of any kind 
by anybody. 

Our good ship Alter, as I have said, belonged to 
the North German Lloyd Line, and was a good illus- 
tration of German enterprise and skill. She was ad- 
mirably built and equipped, and had been a first-class 
liner in her day, though no longer new. But she was 
large and roomy, with great steadiness and fine sea- 
going qualities, and has but few superiors afloat. She 
was 455 feet in length, of 5,217 tons burden, of 7,500 
horse-power, and could easily make four hundred miles 
a day, and keep it up. Her decks furnished an ex- 
cellent promenade, and we took daily walks here at 
all hours, but especially mornings and evenings. She 
was really a floating hotel more than a ship, with hot 
and cold water everywhere, salt-water baths, electric 
lights and bells, etc., and everything that could rea- 
sonably be desired. Here are a few of her staple equip- 

16 



ments: About 35,000 yards of carpet, 12,000 napkins, Furnishings 
10,000 towels, 7,000 sheets, 6,000 plates, 3,000 knives 
and forks, 3,000 spoons, 2,000 tumblers, 1,000 napkin- 
rings, 1,000 cups and saucers, 1,000 counterpanes, 1,000 
pillows, 500 mattresses, 500 finger-bowls, and 500 salt- 
cellars. Besides these she had a cold-storage room, 
a butcher-shop, a bakery, an apothecary-shop, a hos- 
pital, a printing-office, and an elaborate kitchen, with 
supplies of all kinds to last both ways — including 
American ice- 
cream — this for 
her cabin passen- 
gers alone. And 
then there were 
her steerage pas- 
sengers and crew 
besides. 

This was only 
one of the many 
steamers of this 
great steamship 

line. Its headquarters are at Bremen, Germany, and Steerage 
from there it runs lines to New York, Baltimore, Gal- 
veston, Brazil, Argentina, the Mediterranean, India, 
Japan, Australia, and about all over the globe. It was 
organized in 1857, with only $3,000,000 capital; but 
now has a capital of $20,000,000. It began business 
with only one steamer, but now has a fleet of nearly 
one hundred, with as many more lighters, with a total 
tonnage of over 30,000. Its total crews comprise nearly 
six thousand officers and men, mostly first-class, all 
on a common roster, like the navy, and promoted from 
2 17 




Passengers 



European ship to ship, as vacancies occur. The order and dis- 
Days and cipline of the Alter were superb; every man knew his 
Ways place, and kept it; every one his duty, and did it. All 
this speaks well for the German marine, and a German 
navy will follow as a matter of course — "first the blade, 
then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear." Her 
marine will be only the nursery of her navy, and all 
the world may as well take warning. The German 
emperor evidently "means business;" but I think John 
Bull and Brother Jonathan will know how to care for 
themselves. 

One day a little party of us descended into the en- 
gine-room of the Alter, and explored the bowels of 
the great ship from stem to stern. It was hot and slip- 
pery, with grime and grease everywhere; but we saw 
a good deal that was interesting and instructive, and 
learned more about the practical workings of an ocean 
steamer than otherwise obtainable. The firemen, at 
work before the roaring furnaces, were stripped to 
the waist, with the perspiration streaming from their 
faces and bodies. The throb of the engines was like 
the beating of one's heart. And the long shaft lead- 
ing to the screw, as thick as one's body — upon whose 
strength and solidity the very life and speed of the 
vessel depended — worked away as smoothly and reg- 
ularly as a bicycle or a sewing-machine. 

The second day out we struck the Gulf Stream, 
and for two or three days the weather was warm and 
muggy, with dashes of rain. But after that we had 
mostly ideal weather, with the sea like a mill-pond, 
and the sky serenely blue by day and ablaze with stars 
by night. We saw schools of porpoises racing with 

1 8 



the ship, and flying-fishes every day, but only a soli- On the Sea 
tary whale, and he so far away we were not sure it 
was a whale. We met very few vessels, scarcely any 
until we passed the Azores; but from there to Italy 
had sight of one or more every day. It was a long 
sail from New York to the Azores — nearly a week — 
and the ocean seemed daily more vast and illimitable, 
if possible. No wonder the poets speak of it as "the 
image of Eternity!" On land you have always some- 
thing to go by, and to measure with — such as houses, 
fields, forests, mountains, etc; but at sea you are only 
a speck among boundless and trackless waters — vast, 
illimitable, sublime — with the sun mocking at you by 
day and the moon and stars by night, and a man never 
seems so infantile and helpless. In this six days' voy- 
age we sighted only two or three vessels— far distant 
as a rule — and what would have happened in case of 
a fire or accident, we did not care to think much about. 
Few of our passengers were seasick, the ocean was so 
smooth, and all soon got their "sea-legs" on, and 
walked the decks constantly, or reclined in their steamer 
chairs wrapped in their rugs and shawls. It was not 
cold, but often breezy and damp, and the sea-air 
usually necessitated an extra coat or wrap. Our fel- 
low-passengers, as a whole, were social and agreeable, — 
chatty, well-mannered, well-conducted, and far less 
addicted to card-playing and wine-drinking than we 
anticipated. Nearly everybody smoked, but there was 
no drunkenness, and little gambling or profanity. The 
chief occupation was talking and reading, sleeping and 
writing diaries. I slept much the entire voyage, but 
especially the first week. I had been very busy for 

19 



European several weeks before leaving home, and needed rest, 
Days and and now got more solid sleep to the square inch than 
Ways ever before in my life. My physicians had often pre- 
scribed an ocean-voyage as a means of rest and recrea- 
tion (re-creation, in the true sense of that word), and 
now I took their prescription to the full. We had 
three full meals a day — breakfast, 8 A. M.; lunch, i 
P. M. ; dinner, 7 P. M. — with refreshments on deck 
between meals, and, as a rule, all ate heartily. Our 
meats and fowls were excellent — kept in cold storage. 
Our fruits — apples, cherries, oranges, bananas, grapes, 
etc. — kept in the same way, and fresh as in New York 
or Naples. May 30th was "Decoration-day," and our 
ladies suddenly blossomed out in Red, White, and 
Blue, with miniature American flags everywhere. The 
ship's band at dinner gave us all the American airs, 
winding up with "America" and the "Star-spangled 
Banner," and all responded with hearty applause. We 
had no speeches, as we ought to have had. But we 
were just out of the Gulf Stream. 

We struck the Azores, June 1st, late in the after- 
noon, and encountered a large three-masted schooner 
well in shore. Flores and Corvo were the first in sight, 
and we welcomed their green fields and fleecy water- 
falls. We did not stop, but could see the scattered farm- 
houses and distant villages as we skirted by, with the 
surf breaking on the rocky cliffs. It soon grew dark, 
and then we could only catch the lights twinkling here 
and there on land. The next morning, before sunrise, 
we sighted Pico, a magnificent conelike peak, shoot- 
ing up over seven thousand feet, as if out of the very 
sea, and the sun came up out of the ocean like a ball of 

20 



fire while I was gazing through my porthole at the The Azores 
glorious little island. From thence on until well into 
the afternoon the Azores were all about us, and land 
never seemed more beautiful. There are nine of these 
islands — San Miguel, Santa Maria, Terceira, San Jorge, 
Pico, Fayal, Graciosa, Flores, and Corvo — with an 
area of about seven hundred square miles, and a total 
population of about two hundred and sixty thousand. 
The Carthaginians seem to have been here once, and 
then the Azores 
were lost sight of, 
and not rediscov- 
ered until 1432, 
or thereabouts, by 
Cabral, a Port- 
uguese navigator. 
Portugal in those 
days was a great 
power, and the 
Portuguese a live 
people. The 
Azores still belong to Portugal, and the population The Azores 
is mostly Portuguese, with a considerable influx of 
Flemish blood, which took place in the fifteenth cen- 
tury, when Spain was harrying the Netherlands, and 
it is still apparent here. The climate is mild and 
equable, the thermometer seldom rising above seventy- 
five degrees or sinking below fifty degrees; and hence 
Fayal, San Miguel, etc., are great health-resorts. I 
think I would like to spend a winter here, and get 
away from the dreadful cold and fog and snows of New 
Jersey in January, February, and March, usually so 

21 




European trying to one's health and temper. The islands are 
Days and all of volcanic origin, and their soil astonishingly fer- 
WayS tile — producing oranges, lemons, pine-apples, and other 
tropical fruits in great abundance. Many of the orange- 
trees are two and three hundred years old, and still 
in full bearing and beauty. They blossom from January 
to March, when the air is loaded with their delicious 
perfume, which is often wafted out to sea to passing 
vessels. The largest town is Punta Delgada, a place 
of twenty thousand inhabitants, and quite a winter re- 
sort. We did not stop at any of the Azores, but slowed 
up off Punta Delgada, and threw a package of news- 
papers and letters in oilskin overboard, as mail for the 
German consul there, and which his rowboat, manned 
by two ragged and picturesque Portuguese, hastened 
to pick up and carry ashore. Our captain invited many 
of us up on the "bridge," and from this greater eleva- 
tion we had charming views of the town and surround- 
ing country. The islands seemed to be well cultivated 
and fairly inhabited, with stately churches gleaming 
here and there; but the. roads were only donkey-trails, 
"over the hills and far away." Fishing-boats were 
numerous, and evidently the inhabitants cultivate the 
sea quite as much as the land. 

We were here on the track of Columbus, and had 
been for several days, sailing over his original course, 
when he discovered America. 

" Behind him lay the gray Azores, 
Behind the gates of Hercules ; 
Before him only ghosts of shores, 
Before him only shoreless seas." 

22 



But he stuck to his job, in spite of all obstacles Spanish 
and opposition, and so won at last, all honor to his COflSt 
heroic soul! Here, indeed, were the "gray Azores," 
gray and spectral, in truth, in the morning mists, but 
sparkling like diamonds at midday, and seeming like 
bits of Paradise or real Gardens of the Hesperides after 
our long sea voyage from New York. In 1493, re- 
turning from his first voyage of discovery, in the little 
Nina, Columbus was overtaken by a terrible storm in 
mid ocean, and he and his crew made a vow to the 
Holy Virgin, that if saved, on reaching land they would 
walk bareheaded and barefooted, and with no clothes 
on save their shirts, to the nearest shrine, and offer 
thanksgiving. The storm abated, and they landed on 
Santa Maria, and proceeded to fulfill their vow; but the 
governor, one Don Joao de Castanheda — doubtless a 
hard-headed old soldier, and with little respect for saints 
and vows — ordered them all arrested as scandalizing 
pirates, and only released them when Columbus sub- 
sequently produced his great commission from the King 
of Spain. This was February, 1493, and in June, 1899, 
four hundred and six years afterwards, we passed the 
same spot, but without any such pious pilgrimage or 
possibility of arrest. 

Two days afterwards we sighted the coast of Spain 
(June 4th), and soon were off Capes St. Vincent and 
Trafalgar, where, a century ago nearly, Lord Nelson 
won his great victory over the combined French and 
Spanish fleets, and broke the sea-power of Napoleon 
forever. It was a rude awakening for the great Cor- 
sican, as he counted on victory there; but English grit 
and skill were too much for him, and Trafalgar sounded 

23 



European the knell of his power on sea, as Waterloo soon did of 
Days and his power on land. Had he won at Trafalgar, there 
Ways likely would have been no Waterloo, and the face of 
the world would have been greatly changed. But 
Horatio Nelson was too much for Villeneuve, and it 
is no wonder the French admiral blew out his brains; 
and he was a brave and capable officer, too. We re- 
called Nelson's great battle-signal, "England expects 
every man to do his duty." And they did it, too, and 
made the names of Nelson and Trafalgar memorable 
in history forever. 

Here we encountered steamers and sailing vessels 
again, as off Sandy Hook; and gulls, wild ducks, and 
porpoises became much in evidence. On shore there 
were lighthouses and cable-stations, and soon signal- 
flags were flying, announcing the Alters safe arrival 
thus far. The waves broke everywhere apparently 
against a bluff and rocky coast, and the country inland, 
as a whole, seemed barren and sterile. A range of 
mountains loomed along the horizon, but they were 
brown and treeless. 

That night we passed the Straits of Gibraltar, and 
the next morning early (June 5th) anchored off the 
celebrated rock. We had coffee at 5 A. M., and at 
6 A. M. a little steam tug or lighter took everybody 
ashore who wanted to go. Some did not care to do so, 
as they had been there before. But nearly all were 
glad to touch terra firma again. Soon we were ashore, 
and walking along the great mole and narrow streets, 
or climbing up the great rock. Of course, soldiers 
and military works are everywhere; but Gibraltar strikes 
you first as truly a cosmopolitan and polyglot place. 

24 



The town itself contains about twenty thousand popu- Gibraltar 
lation; but English, Spanish, Portuguese, Italians, 
Arabs, Moors, Jews, all abound — each with their na- 
tive tongue and in their national costumes — and the 
confusion and babel are picturesque and charming to 
the passing American. Here were Greeks, in their 
showy dress, with antiquities from Athens; Moors, in 
their flowing robes, with knives and curios from Tunis 
and Morocco; Spaniards, with grapes, and cherries, and 
exquisite oranges 
and lemons; but 
not a single 
Negro, which 
seemed extraor- 
dinary, Africa be- 
ing so near. 

We took a car- 
riage, of course, 
and drove through 
the city, and along 
the water-batter- 
ies, and through the Alameda, and out to Point Europa, Gibraltar 
and across the Neutral Ground (between England 
and Spain), and then ascended to the rock galleries 
and batteries, and indeed saw everything possible or 
permissible. The whole place is simply a gigantic rock, 
a quarter of a mile high and seven miles around, on 
the extreme end of the Spanish Peninsula, dominating 
the Straits of Gibraltar, and well called the "Key of 
the Mediterranean." No wonder Spain craves it and 
England holds it ! Besides the immense batteries along 
the water front and sides, there are vast tunnels or 

25 




European galleries through the rock itself, on different levels, 
Days and with portholes and cannon every few yards — over three 
Ways miles in all — and, first and last, over a thousand pieces 
of artillery are mounted here. A garrison of several 
thousand soldiers have their barracks and quarters near 
the top of the rock, and supplies of all kinds, enough 
to last for several years, are kept constantly in store. 
The town is mostly along the water, but essays to 
climb the mountain also. Its streets are few and nar- 
row, chiefly only ten or twelve feet wide, with foot- 
walks two or three feet or more; and these zigzag up 
and down the mountain everywhere, but are well-paved 
and clean, and a delight to an American. The houses 
are of rough stone, or of cement and stucco, and gen- 
erally are of white or cream color, though some are 
blue and red from Venice or the Orient. Many are 
built around little courts or gardens in the old Moorish 
style, and all seemed densely peopled. Children and 
goats swarmed everywhere, and everybody seemed in- 
dustrious and contented. I did not see a frame build- 
ing in the town; all were of stone or cement. I noticed 
an English church, a Roman Catholic church, a Wes- 
leyan (or Methodist) church, a Young Men's Chris- 
tian Association building, and several public schools, 
all of which seemed well attended. There was an ex- 
cellent public market near our landing place, clean and 
well kept and supervised. Fruit-stands and wine-shops 
also abounded everywhere; but we saw no drunken- 
ness or disorder, nor much real poverty. 

There was a general absence of trees and soil, 
Gibraltar being mainly a sheer and naked rock over 

26 



thirteen hundred feet high. But the inhabitants make Gibraltar 
up for this by planting trees and shrubs and vines in 
the crevices of the rock, and in barrels and boxes; and 
Spanish chestnuts, English locusts, Italian pines, 
oranges, lemons, roses, geraniums, hollyhocks, palms, 
daisies, and morning-glories grow everywhere, all the 
year round. The general flora did not seem much 
different from what we have in New York and New 
Jersey in summer time; but here everything was on 
a larger scale, and more luxuriant, as if growing per- 
ennially. I never saw such big geraniums and mag- 
nificent morning-glories, and the mere recollection of 
them is an abiding delight. 

We saw no apes or monkeys, though formerly 
abounding at Gibraltar. They were said to breed in the 
rocks and cliffs, and to appear and disappear period- 
ically; but none were now visible. We were shown an 
old and dilapidated tree, called the "Ape-tree," in the 
Alameda, or public gardens, which monkeys were said 
formerly to frequent; but it bore no such fruit when 
we were there, and had not done so recently. What 
had become of the simians no one seemed to know, 
but at all events there were none there. The old tradi- 
tion of their crossing from Africa under the straits by 
an underground passage (they are of an African breed) 
is evidently a myth, and such a transit clearly an im- 
possibility. The straits are from ten to fifteen miles 
wide at the narrowest place, and, if there was such an 
underground passage, how could the apes and monkeys 
travel it in pitch darkness and mud and water? The 
Rock of Gibraltar itself abounds in natural caves and 

27 



European caverns of unknown depth, never yet explored, as said, 
Days and and the scenes of many a Moorish and Spanish tragedy. 
Ways Doubtless the English do not care to have them known, 
but prefer to keep the Rock as mysterious and awe- 
inspiring as possible. 

We saw several Spaniards with a herd of a dozen 
or so goats each, driving from house to house and 
milking them as wanted, selling milk pure and fresh 
from the fountain. Also another, with four handsome 
"Jersey" cows, doing the same thing. We did not see 
a milk-wagon or a milk-store in the whole place, and 
doubt if there is one. It is Spanish and Mediterranean 
generally to deliver milk only as above. And, it must 
be confessed, the plan has its advantages. No chance 
for the milkman to use the pump as his best cow ! 

The fine harbor, one of the best on the Mediter- 
ranean, was thronged with vessels arriving and depart- 
ing. English, German, Spanish, Italian, and other 
liners halted while we were there — English for Egypt 
and India, German for North America and Australia, 
Italian for South America. Gibraltar is indeed a busy 
place, and abounding with interest. A great dock- 
yard and naval station are maintained here, as well 
as the gigantic and impressive fortress; and England 
clearly means Gibraltar shall defy the world. It cer- 
tainly seems well able to do this. We saw her garri- 
son on drill, a fine body of well-set-up officers and sol- 
diers; and evidently they will give a good account of 
themselves, if ever called upon to do so. 

It is an old, old place. The Romans were here 
once, and the Carthaginians and Phoenicians before 

28 



them. Then came the Moors — and there is an old Gibraltar 
Moorish tower and wall here still. Then came the 
Spaniards. But in 1704 Great Britian wrested it from 
Spain and has held it ever since, though Spain has often 
tried to recover it. In 1782, after Burgoyne's surrender, 
in the midst of our American Revolution, when things 
looked black for England, Spain made a supreme effort, 
aided also by France; but England proved too much 
for them both. How it stirs one's blood even to read 
about it! Spain and France sent two great fleets 
and forty thousand men — soldiers and sailors together 
— against Gibraltar, and the old rock seemed indeed 
doomed. But General George Elliott was there, with 
only 7,500 Englishmen, and he held on with a heroism 
and courage worthy of the best traditions of the British 
race. Two princes of France presided over the siege, 
and nothing was left undone to capture the place. 
They besieged it closely for over three years and a half, 
with land batteries and water batteries raining shot 
and shell by day and by night. Elliott's supplies ran 
short; he had not expected such a prolonged siege, 
nor anybody else. England failed to re-enforce him 
promptly, and famine and disease also joined force with 
the besiegers, and finally mutiny and insubordination 
temporarily also. But Elliott held grimly out, with the 
tenacity of a bulldog, with the courage of Grant and 
the genius of Dewey, and so saved Gibraltar to Eng- 
land and to Anglo-Saxon civilization at last. It was 
a great achievement, nobly and heroically done, and 
worthy of Gibraltar. Ever since, Gibraltar has been 
the "Key of the Mediterranean," never more so than 

29 



European now, and to-day is England's first step on her great 
Days and highway to India and China, and so well safeguards 
Ways her "morning drumbeat" and march around the world. 
Of course, it .goes without saying, England duly 
knighted the gallant Elliott, and to-day the stately 
statue of "Sir George Elliott" stands in the Alameda 
as a memorial forever, one of the royal family being 
sent from England to help dedicate it. All honor to 
the British Government and people! 

From Gibraltar we passed on up the Mediterranean, 
often in sight of the coast of Spain or France, with 
their magnificent mountains looming along the horizon, 
and, skirting Sardinia, reached the Bay of Naples about 
midnight, June 7th. This whole Mediterranean voyage 
was hot and muggy, with showers threatening every 
day, but none coming. The sea was intensely blue 
by day, and the sky superb with stars by night. The 
sunsets were surprisingly beautiful. But the days were 
long and the nights tedious, and we were all glad when 
the last night came, with its customary ball on deck, 
with the German and American flags everywhere inter- 
twined, and the band playing American airs. Soon 
after midnight we caught sight of the lights along shore 
at Naples, and presently dropped anchor. But we did 
not disembark until after breakfast next morning. And 
so ended our voyage over — 4,224 miles from New 
York — without a mishap, thanks to Captain Peterman 
and his excellent officers and crew. It had taken us 
twelve days nearly, including our stops at Gibraltar — 
about a day beyond our schedule time. 

Of course, we had to pass the ordeal of the Naples 

3o 



custom-house. But this was soon over, only one of our At Naples 
several pieces of baggage being even looked into; and 
we did not have to "tip" the customs inspectors, either. 
My son's previous European trips and knowledge of 
Italian and Italian ways helped to speed things here. 
Then we called a Neapolitan cab, and drove to the 
Hotel Vesuve, on the Via Partenope, and were in Italy 
at last. 



31 



Chapter II 






E found the Hotel Vesuve clean and invit- 
ing. It is six stories high, on the corner 
of two nice streets, and with a fine outlook 
to Mount Vesuvius across the bay. The 
broad Via Partenope, a new and handsome street, ex- 
tends along its front and skirts the bay and harbor. 
The hotel itself is modern, and its decorations purely 
Pompeian. How simple and beautiful these are, both 
in drawing and coloring, was a surprise and delight. 
And then there are old Pompeian bronzes, marbles, 
and other antiquities besides, scattered about the hotel. 
It has an elevator — or "lift," as called everywhere 
abroad — baths, electric lights and bells, and most 
modern improvements. Its table was good, and the 
water pure and delicious. 

Having secured our rooms and unpacked some- 
what, we started out to see Naples. As a preliminary 
view we decided to take a street-car, trolley-car, and 
omnibus ride, that together would take us much 
around the city. As a rule, there is no better way in 
a new place, as you thus get a general view quickly, 
and then can go to special points afterwards on foot 
or by carriage. We went first up the Via Partenope, 
by the Villa Nazionale, to the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, 
and, ascending this, wound along the heights of St. 

32 



Elmo overlooking the city and bay, and so down to Naples 
the National Museum, and then by the Via Roma and 
Toledo back to our hotel again. Afterwards we took 
our time to it, and saw Naples more at leisure, on that 
and subsequent days there. 

The first thing that strikes you is, that Naples is 
an old place and a good deal of a city. The bay and 
harbor are magnificent, and renowned from antiquity. 
The Greeks, Romans, Goths, Byzantines, Germans, 
Spaniards, and French have all been here, and all left 
their marks on the place. It is the metropolis of South- 
ern Italy, with over five hundred thousand population 
and a garrison of ten thousand soldiers, and is a busy 
and growing city. It absorbs the trade and commerce 
of all that region, and reaches out to France, Spain, 
Tunis, and Mediterranean countries generally. It also 
has steamship lines to England, North America, and 
South America, and with all its historic past believes 
in itself and its future. It is widening and extending 
its streets, and building new and handsome suburbs, 
and is unquestionably the New York of Italy, and 
destined to continue so. 

Naples is situated mostly on a mountain side, rising 
up abruptly from the sea, and extending, with its 
suburbs, from Mount Vesuvius on the east around to 
Pozzuoli on the west. Indeed, as a whole, nothing 
could be more picturesque and enchanting. Its new 
streets are broad and imposing, but its old ones zig- 
zag everywhere along and up the mountain, often as 
broad steps or stairways only, eight or ten feet wide, 
and with houses on either side five or six stories high. 
Here, in these ancient streets, the Neapolitans fairly 
3 33 



European swarm like bees; men, women, and children living and 
Days and working in the open air by day, and sleeping heaven 
Ways only knows how by night; with poor light, bad air, 
and next to no ventilation; setting all our modern 
ideas of sanitation at defiance, and yet apparently 
healthy and happy. The shops and trades all go on 
along the sidewalks al fresco. The domestic occupations 
are all performed in the doorways or windows. Chil- 
dren are washed and combed at the curbstone or door- 
sill. The washtub is a public institution, and the family 
clothes wave in every breeze, on lines that criss-cross 
all the dark alleys and narrow streets. I do n't know 
anything more picturesque than "Old Naples," filled 
with these narrow streets and alleys. But, all the same, 
I wonder how human life manages to endure there. 
And yet it has endured for centuries, now, and these 
Neapolitans are apparently a strong and healthy race, too. 
I have said. Naples strikes one as an old, old place; 
and so it does, with all its modernity in some respects. 
It has old streets, old houses, old churches, old forts, 
and there is an air of antiquity about the whole place 
that harmonizes well with its history. Old forts and 
old convents crown the highest points about the city. 
The old city walls and city gates still stand in part, 
though the city has grown away beyond them; and 
out in the harbor old forts and old prisons are still 
occupied, though crumbling to ruins more or less. 
Right opposite to our hotel was a notable one of these, 
the Castello dell' Ovo, or Egg Castle, so named from 
its oval shape. It was erected in 1 1 54, and was at once 
a chapel, a treasure-house, a palace, and a fort for the 
kings of those days. Its chapel was once adorned with 

34 



frescoes by Giotto, but they have long since perished. Naples 
For centuries it held Naples under its guns, but now 
it is only a military prison, with crumbling walls and 
portholes, and could not stand a day against modern 
artillery. A company or two of soldiers still occupy 
it, and go through the forms of guard-mounting; but 
it is mainly a relic and a ruin. 

In architecture, Naples is not bad, and some of it 
is very good. Her National Museum, Galleria Umberto, 
Royal Palace, chief hotels, and many private resi- 
dences — especially on the newer streets — are all hand- 
some and creditable. She has three hundred churches, 
none of them very good, but many might be worse. 
Her old cathedral of Saint Januarius — begun in 1272 
on the site of a heathen temple of Neptune — is a basilica, 
with aisles of Gothic vaulting, rich in marbles and 
paintings, but noteworthy chiefly for the blood of the 
saint himself, who suffered martyrdom under Diocle- 
tian in 305. His holy blood liquifies three times a 
year — May, September, December — and according as 
its liquefaction is fast or slow, the season will be good 
or bad, the priests say. In 181 4, when Joachim Murat 
held sway here, in the days of the great Napoleon, 
it refused to liquefy at all, and Naples was in great 
commotion, not knowing what was going to happen, 
and there was revolution in the air. But Murat sent 
for the archbishop, and told him if Saint Januarius did 
not liquefy as usual before nightfall, a squad of in- 
fantry would march into his palace-yard before morn- 
ing and bleed him. It is needless to say, Saint Januarius 
soon began to liquefy as usual, and Naples went about 
its business as before. 

35 



European The churches all seem old, and none are new. They 

Days and all abound with frescoes and paintings, but the wor- 
WayS snipers were few. Many of them seemed very old, 
and to be in the narrowest streets, the poorest quarters, 
and most out-of-the-way places. They seem to have 
cared little for "corner lots," like our American churches, 
but got themselves built anywhere and everywhere, in- 
different to surroundings. Possibly they may have 
been well located originally, and have been overgrown 
and crowded out by after generations and subsequent 
buildings. But we found shops, stables, and worse 
places jam up against some of them, and but little rev- 
erence outside, however much inside — even at the very 
church doors. The houses are all of stone or cement. 
Indeed, we did not see a frame house or barn in all 
Naples. The houses seemed well built, with little wood 
about them, with iron beams, their floors tiled, their 
stairways iron and stone, practically fireproof, and a 
credit to their architects and builders. All the houses 
have low iron balconies to every window of every story, 
with potted plants and vines running over them, where 
the people largely live when not down in the street; 
and Naples might well be called "The Balcony City." 
The streets are well paved, with stone blocks about 
two feet by three, and the water supply is abundant 
and excellent. The latter is a matter of recent years, 
I believe; but now fountains and hydrants everywhere 
abound. Men, with hose on little wheels, sweep and 
wash the streets and plazas every day and night, and 
Naples, as a whole, seemed cleaner and sweeter than 
many American cities of its size, after all that has been 
said and written against Italy and the Italians by some 

36 



passing travelers. I do n't deny that there are some Naples 
dirty and ill-smelling streets and courts there; but so 
there are in New York, Philadelphia, and Boston even. 

Naples, as I have said, is built on a mountain side, 
street rising above street and zigzagging "every which 
way," with magnificent views from above over the bay 
and ocean. She gets up and down chiefly by cable- 
cars or "furiiculares," as the Italians call them, that 
run every few minutes, and make excellent speed. She 
has also ancient streets that go straight up the moun- 
tain side, with broad stone steps, that a sure-footed 
horse or donkey can readily climb. She has also over- 
head trolley-cars (made in America), that run every- 
where, and everybody patronizes them. Besides these, 
she has cheap cabs and omnibuses, and no Neapolitan 
ever walks when he can ride, though the lower classes, 
of course, go much afoot. The popular vehicle is the 
one-horse cab, to carry two or four, with low wheels, 
and a mere pony of a horse, but hardy and enduring. 
These horses come from Sardinia, and it is a sight to 
see them go. Their harness is literally covered with 
mountings and brasses. They have no bits, but a halter- 
like bridle, with a nosepiece that guides them right 
and left, as you pull the lines, and their drivers literally 
have no mercy on them. They crack their whips like 
pistol-shots, and go off on the run in the midst of 
crowded thoroughfares even, and collisions would be 
common were these Jehus not experts. 

One evening we went to dine at the Restaurant 
Pallino, high up on the mountain, past Crispi's beau- 
tiful modern villa, and not far from Virgil's tomb. It 
was a lovely evening, with the sun setting in an un- 

37 



European clouded sky. At our feet lay the city and bay, tinged 
Days and with a thousand shadows and colors, of a beauty and 
Ways a glory no artist ever dreamed of. Beyond rose Vesu- 
vius, with his mighty flag of perpetual smoke and flame 
streaming on the wind — a faithful and mysterious sen- 
tinel over Naples always. We shall never forget that 
dinner and the ride up and back. There were four of 
us, besides the driver, in a one-horse cab. But the 
little Neapolitan horse trotted right along all the way 
there. The street was well graded, though the ascent 
was considerable. But when we returned he literally 
flew down the mountain side, on a full gallop much 
of the way, and everybody made way for us as a matter 
of course. In any American city we would have been 
arrested for fast driving; but Naples thought it all 
right — it was "the custom of the country." The drivers 
always carry a mess of oats and a wisp of grass some- 
where about their cabs, and take good care of their 
ponies, though driving them unmercifully. They all 
belong to a General Cab Company, that controls the 
cabs of Naples, and their fares are moderate. We saw 
some two-horse carriages, or "landaus," also in use; 
but they were infrequent. It is these little one-horse 
cabs, that go racing and spinning everywhere, and at 
all hours of the day and night. 

In one of these cabs we invaded "Old Naples" (as 
a whole section of the city is called) several times, and 
threaded its old streets, so narrow that two cabs can 
not pass in many places, and without sidewalks as a 
rule. Here everybody lives out-of-doors, and all pas- 
sers-by walk in the middle of the street. Here every- 
thing smacks of antiquity — old houses, old churches, 

38 



old people, but with plenty of children sprawling every- Naples 
where; and I apprehend "Old Naples," in its manners 
and customs, people, occupations, and daily life, repro- 
duces ancient Rome much as Caesar and Virgil saw it. 
Naples also abounds in street sounds, as well as street 
sights. Indeed, it is said to be the noisiest city in 
Europe, and one can well believe this. What with the 
trolley-cars and omnibuses, the clatter of the cabs, the 
cracking of whips, the braying of donkeys, and the 
shrill 



cries 
songs of 




and 
the 
street venders, 
Naples is never 
quiet by day or 
night. Her street 
noises, indeed, are 
constant and ap- 
palling. Every- 
body and every- 
thing seems 
screaming all the 
time, with a shrill tenor we never hear in America. And Strada 

the mighty volume of her noise rises with a roar and ' 

& J Naples 

resonance that wakes you in the morning, and is the 
last thing you hear at night. New York seems bad 
enough in this respect; but Naples is ten times worse. 
As an art center, Naples has long been of interest, 
and she has done some good work, though much that 
is bad. Her climate and scenery naturally attract lovers 
of art, and her artistic sense is much apparent. Painters 
and sculptors are numerous, and in gems, jewelry, and 
the like, she makes a good showing. She has many 

39 



European public monuments of a good type, and her equestrian 
Ddys and statues of Victor Emmanuel and others are striking 
Ways and effective. Her National Museum is an imposing 
building, well located, and is filled with a collection 
of statuary, paintings, bronzes, etc., that does her credit. 
It was originally a cavalry barracks (1586), but a cen- 
tury ago was changed into a museum of antiquities 
and pictures. Here are the famous Farnese Bull, and 
the celebrated statue of Hercules, found in the Baths 
of Caracalla at Rome, but long ago brought to Naples. 
Both are exquisite in conception and finish, and Naples 
is proud of their possession, as well as of hundreds of 
other antiques, both Roman and Etruscan, more or 
less good. Here, also, are the chief art treasures of 
Pompeii and Herculaneum, exquisite and wonderful, 
and one can make a good study of both of these inter- 
esting places without going nearer than Naples. Here 
also are some wonderful frescoes and mosaics, both 
ancient and modern, and, in the picture galleries, Cor- 
reggio, Titian, Raphael, Andrea del Sarto, and the 
great masters of the German and Flemish schools are 
well represented. 

Her Galleria Umberto is an ambitious arcade of 
recent construction, in the heart of the city, at the 
intersection of three main streets, with two naves — one 
one hundred and sixty yards long and the other one 
hundred and thirty-three, each sixteen yards wide and 
one hundred and twenty-five feet high, — with an 
octagon in the center forty yards in diameter, sur- 
mounted by a dome of glass and iron one hundred and 
eighty-five feet high. It is adorned with statues of 
Olympic deities in marble and of angels in copper, 

40 



and has stucco and gilding everywhere, and at night Naples 
is ablaze with electricity. It is crowded with shops 
and stores and cafes, and swarms with people day and 
night. The best people in Naples, as a rule, may be 
met here. But we also saw some of her lazzaroni on 
the steps outside, asleep in the sun at noonday, when 
everybody else sought only the shade. It is said to 
have cost four millions of dollars, but looks like a good 
investment. 

Her Villa Nazionale, or Public Park and Garden, 
fronts along the sea, and is the central point of her 
chief hotels and pensions. The grounds are flat, but 
beautifully laid out, and handsomely embellished with 
trees and flowers. Many magnificent palms grow here 
in the open air, and the place is well worth seeing. 
In the evening there are open-air concerts here, and 
the crowds are immense. Near the eastern entrance 
is a large antique granite basin, brought from ancient 
Psestum nearly a century ago, and beyond this is her 
celebrated marine aquarium, unique in its way. Here 
is the largest collection of marine animals in the world, 
including many specimens of electric eels, of the great 
octopus or devil-fish, crabs, cray-fish, living corals, and 
all the civilized "nations on the globe, including the 
United States, contribute to its support as a school 
for naturalists. The devil-fishes were gruesome-look- 
ing monsters, though much inferior to Victor Hugo's 
in his "Toilers of the Sea." But this aquarium is a 
place of great and unique interest, and well repays a 
visit. We spent part of a day there very instructively, 
and intended to return again, but lacked the time. Of 
course, it is her proximity to the sea that gave Naples 

41 



European the opportunity for this marine aquarium, and she de- 
DdyS and serves credit for having made the most of it, not only 
ways for Italy, but the whole world. 

Naples also has her botanic garden, founded a cen- 
tury ago, and full of rare tropical and temperate trees 
and plants. Many of its trees are immense, a wonder 
and delight to the eye, and its roses and flowers are 
charming beyond description. We wandered through 
its broad paths and wide alleys, and beneath its um- 
brageous trees, and found many of the same roses that 
bloom in our yards at home. Indeed, much of the 
flora of Naples is the same as ours, though usually on 
a larger scale. 

Altogether, it must be confessed, we were delighted 
with Naples, and much impressed with her size, im- 
portance, beauty, prosperity, etc. She is, indeed, "beau- 
tiful for situation," and Lord Byron was not far wrong 
when he wrote, "See Naples and die!" However, this 
was not his own, but an old Italian proverb, and the 
Italians, fond of sunny Naples and her superb bay and 
glorious Vesuvius, knew what they were about when 
they coined it. The Neapolitans are certainly a much 
better people than they have usually been represented. 
They have a low-down class, that are evidently the 
descendants of the old Roman slaves, with the same 
habits and customs, making little progress, and be- 
tween whom and the better classes a great gulf still 
exists; but above these are their mechanics, builders, 
architects, manufacturers, merchants, etc., that would 
be a credit to any city, and Naples has her face set 
well to the future. 

We found the evenings cool and delightful, with 
42 



a sea-breeze sweeping in from the bay, and the morn- Naples 
ings charming. But in the middle of the day it grew 
hot and oppressive, and everybody took a "siesta" for 
two or three hours. We readily fell in with "the cus- 
tom of the country," and soon had to exchange our 
American derbies for Italian straw hats (made in Eng- 
land), and wore these constantly, to our great com- 
fort and protection from the Italian sun. We had to 
buy a sole-leather hatbox to carry our derbies; but 
while this seemed absurd at first, it proved to be one 
of our most useful pieces of luggage, carrying collars, 
cuffs, and neckties, as well as hats. 



43 




Chapter III 

IDDING Naples good-bye, temporarily, we 
went by railroad to Castellamare via Her- 
culaneum, June ioth. We did not stop at 
Herculaneum, as we were bound for Pom- 
peii, and knew the latter much exceeded the former. 
It was a superb morning, and the railroad swept around 
the glorious Bay of Naples, and so off to the south. 
Market-gardens filled the suburbs, with men and women 
everywhere at work among their vegetables and flowers. 
Irrigation was the rule everywhere, by ox or donkey 
or man power, from ancient wells, that date back no 
doubt to old Roman days. They were also everywhere 
at work making "macaroni," and drying it in the sun — 
an established Neapolitan industry; for what would 
the Italian be without his "macaroni?" We reached 
Castellamare, about twenty miles from Naples, in an 
hour or so, and found it to be a good Italian town, on 
the Gulf of Naples, of some thirty thousand people, 
with considerable business and some foreign com- 
merce, with a dockyard, etc. At the station, guides 
and hackmen assailed us, and we were surprised to 
be addressed in good English by one better dressed 
than his companions, who said he had recently spent 
three years in Belvidere, N. J., and had there learned 
"to talk American." We might have gone to Pompeii 

44 



by railroad direct, but wanted to see Castellamare, and Pompeii 
also* wanted the carriage-ride from there to Pompeii. 
We soon engaged a carriage, and set off for Pompeii. 
As we turned a corner of the street, suddenly we caught 
sight of an American flag streaming on the breeeze, 
over the American consulate, and involuntarily lifted 
our hats and cheered it. It was the first American 
flag we had seen since arriving in Italy, and "good 
for sore eyes." A little farther on we came upon the 
English consulate, with the Union Jack flying over 
it, and saluted that also, but not like "Old Glory." 
Once out of Castellamare, the drive to Pompeii, some 
five or six miles, was dusty and hot; but, with Vesuvius 
ever before us and the great memories of the past with 
us, we enjoyed every mile of the way. 

We reached Pompeii about noon, and lunched at 
the Hotel Suisse, the best place there, but none too 
good. Flies and fleas both abounded, and it is difficult 
to say which were the worst. After our "siesta," or 
mid-day rest — essential everywhere in Italy — we se- 
cured a guide, and two good carriers with a rude sedan- 
chair, and entered Pompeii. The entrance is through 
beautiful grounds, abounding in oleanders and other 
flowering shrubs, and so to what was once the old 
Marine Gate, though now far from the waters of the 
bay. Evidently the sea has here subsided, or the land 
been elevated, which amounts to the same thing. The 
street passing through the gate seems too steep to 
have been used much by vehicles, and was probably 
used only by saddle and pack animals. There is a 
narrow sidewalk on the left for foot-passengers, but 
it is all very different from our modern ideas. 

45 



European Pompeii was once a goodly city of thirty thousand 

Days and souls, but is now only the skeleton or ghost of its 
Ways former self. It was the Newport or Long Branch of 
its day, the favorite summer watering-place of Naples 
and Rome. Originally Oscan, it afterwards became 
Greek and then Roman, and was renowned through 
all Italy for its civilization and culture. But in the 
year A. D. 63, Vesuvius woke up, after being asleep 
for centuries, and a great earthquake occurred, that 
destroyed much of the city, overthrowing its temples, 
colonnades, theaters, dwellings, etc. Italy took com- 
passion upon her, and sent great companies of me- 
chanics, architects, and artists, to restore and beautify 
her. But in the year A. D. 79 Vesuvius broke loose 
again, worse than before, and finally destroyed Pom- 
peii altogether. There was first a dense shower of 
ashes, to the depth of two or three feet, which per- 
mitted many of the inhabitants to escape, though over 
two thousand, it is estimated, perished. This was fol- 
lowed shortly by a shower of red-hot stones, that 
covered the city to a depth of seven or eight feet, and 
this again by a fresh shower of ashes, and again by 
stones, until the present superincumbent mass is from 
fifteen to twenty feet thick. The city was entirely over- 
whelmed and wholly lost to view, and became utterly 
forgotten for centuries. But in 1592 its ruins were 
accidently discovered while constructing a subter- 
ranean aqueduct, and about a century ago the Italian 
Government began to excavate and uncover it. The 
Bourbons did something on this line; but Murat and 
Victor Emmanuel and Humbert have done more, and 
in a few years they hope to have this ancient and his- 

46 



toric city wholly in sight again. Many of the objects Vesuvius 
discovered have been removed to the great National 
Museum at Naples; but they have also a museum and 
library at Pompeii, and, of course, the old ruins are 
there, and always will be. 

Mount Vesuvius rises up in isolated majesty from 
the soft Campanian plain, some seven or eight miles 
away, to the height of about four thousand feet. How 
could he erupt and disgorge all this vast mass of ashes 
and stones, and 
hurl them this 
great distance to 
Pompeii? But it 
seems he did, in- 
credible as it ap- 
pears; and there 
is a record that 
in 1 63 1 he hurled 
one stone of even 
twenty-five tons 
weight a distance 
of fifteen miles. A great old volcano he certainly is Vesuvius 
when he wakes up, though vineyards and farms now 
cover his flanks and shoulders, and all seems peace- 
ful and serene, except his perpetual gonfalon of smoke 
and occasional muttering and grumbling. The ascent 
of Vesuvius is now made partly by "funiculare" (or 
cable-road), and partly on horseback, and the view from 
its summit must be superb and glorious. But the 
fatigue is great, and we did not feel equal to the oc- 
casion. Some of our steamer friends, however, made 
the trip, both ladies and gentlemen; but from their 

47 




European accounts afterwards we concluded we were wise in not 

Days and attempting it. 

Ways In entering Pompeii, just beyond the Marine Gate, 

you come first to the museum on the right, and find 
it full of interesting and wonderful things. Here are 
exquisite marbles, bronzes, mosaics, etc., taken from 
the ruins, though many of the choicest have been re- 
moved to Naples and Rome. Here also are casts of 
men, women, and children, and of dogs, that perished 
in the eruption, but their bodies left molds in the ashes, 
and these, being now filled with plaster of Paris, pre- 
served their figures and attitudes after their death- 
struggles. Here also are the carbonized remains of 
loaves of bread, biscuits, etc., looking much like the 
same we use now, though buried here nearly twenty 
centuries ago. 

Passing on, you are struck by the narrowness of 
the streets. They are all paved, but seldom over 
twelve or fifteen feet wide — usually less — with foot- 
walks averaging only two or three feet. They have 
been much used, as evidenced by the deep ruts along 
them all, where the ancient vehicles went. So the side- 
walks show much wear by pedestrians, and at the 
street-crossings are high stepping-stones for use in 
case of flooded streets after rains — quite like such as 
they used to have in Baltimore, and I suppose there 
still. The wheels of their carts and chariots passed 
between these. At the corner of the Forum and in 
other public places the footwalks are worn away diag- 
onally, showing that the Pompeians liked "short cuts" 
quite as well as we moderns do. Along the streets are 
drinking-fountains for both horses and dogs, on every 

48 



block or so, so that they must have been pretty civil- Pompeii 
ized and humane even in those old days. 

The buildings are mostly of concrete, faced with 
brick or stone at the doors and windows. They are 
now chiefly of one story, but the remains of stairways 
show that originally some had other stories also. The 
dwelling-houses were mainly built around an open 
space or quadrangle, upon which the living-rooms 
faced, and where fountains and flowers once abounded. 
Some of these 
houses have been 
restored or pro- 
duced as nearly 
like what they 
were originally, 
as can now be as- 
certained, and are 
very artistic and 
charming. They 
have little foun- 
tains and statues 
everywhere, and roses, pansies, daisies, and lilies grow- -Pompeii 

ing profusely. Inside, these restored mansions are agon-ruts, 
° r J 2,000 Years 

decorated beautifully but simply, with a wealth of de- old 

sign and color in the true Pompeian style, and one 
can well imagine himself back in old Pompeii again 
as he rambles through them. So also the ruined 
houses, many of them, have rooms and walls still stand- 
ing, covered with light and airy decorations, both 
arabesque and grotesque, of graceful designs and har- 
monious colors, both of plants and animals, g*ods and 
goddesses, men and women, birds and fishes, that must 
4 49 




European delight the soul of an artist. Here are airy birds poised 
Days and on wing; exquisite vines and flowers; flying cherubs 
Ways and Cupids; dancing fauns; divine boys and girls, and 
all that art can execute or poetry imagine. A beauty- 
loving, pleasure-enjoying, artistic people certainly these 
old Pompeians were, whatever may be said of their 
morals. Many of the houses have "Cave canem" (Be- 
ware of the Dog) by the side of their doorways, or 
Salve (Welcome) in their vestibules, done in good 
mosaic-work; and their ancient baker-shops, butcher- 
shops, tailor-shops, barber-shops, and the like, have 
some sign or symbol on the pavements or elsewhere 
indicating their business. On the street-corners are 
notices of municipal elections, with names of candi- 
dates, chalked or painted there two thousand years ago, 
but still fresh and visible. 

The ancient Thermae (or baths) are still there, with 
their hot rooms, cold rooms, and vapor rooms, for 
rich and poor, and both sexes, and must have been 
handsome and spacious in their day. The Forum stands 
near the center of the city, with an open space in the 
middle five hundred and fifteen feet long by one hun- 
dred and seven broad, and, with its temples, statues, 
arcades, and colonnades, must have been an honor 
and credit to the city. There were two theaters, one 
capable of accommodating five thousand spectators, 
and also an amphitheater capable of holding twenty 
thousand. They were all in the open air, cut out of 
the hillsides, or built up on masonry, and with their 
stone seats arranged in tiers one above the other in 
such a way that the feet of those sitting in one tier 
should not inconvenience those below. They were 

SO 



richly adorned with statues and frescoes, most of which Pompeii 
have disappeared, though fragments still remain. In 
the outer walls are still seen the stone rings and sockets 
for the poles or masts, which supported awnings on 
sunny or rainy days, and near by were reservoirs of 
water for gently sprinkling, and thus refreshing, the 
spectators in hot weather. All of these places of public 
resort and amusement are admirably located, just where 
the audiences could catch the best views of the sea 
and mountains, and old Vesuvius, and their engineers 
and architects must have understood and appreciated 
the wonderful landscape effects at Pompeii to the full. 
It must have been like paradise at Pompeii twenty 
centuries ago, with all that nature and art and science 
and literature and religion (their pagan religion) could 
do for her. No wonder all Italy hastened to rebuild 
Pompeii when she perished. But when she perished 
a second time, within sixteen years, with large loss 
of life and treasure, they gave her up for good, and 
turned her over to Mount Vesuvius. 

Much of the city has been uncovered; but we found 
a hundred or so men and women still working away 
with shovels and baskets. They could work faster, of 
course, with better appliances, but prefer to go slowly, 
in order to save uninjured the precious antiquities 
they may discover. They are finding many of these 
still from week to week, both interesting and valuable; 
but the expense constitutes a heavy drain upon the 
Italian treasury. 

Our trip through Pompeii was hot and fatiguing; 
there was so much to see, and we were so eager to 
see it. But we took turns in the "sedan-chair," and 

5i 



European rested in shady places in the shadow of her crumbling 

Days and walls and columns, and altogether enjoyed Pompeii 

Ways greatly. I read Bulwer's "Last Days of Pompeii" 

when a schoolboy. But here I was in Pompeii itself, 

and with all her ghastly memories and ghostly glories 

around me. 

Returning to Castellamare, we drove thence to 
Sorrento, some twelve miles farther. In all, we drove 
about twenty-five miles that day. The road follows the 
curving shore of the Bay of Naples, often hewn out 
of the solid rock or mountain side, and is a perpetual 
charm. Like all Italian roads, it is a fine piece of civil 
engineering, and we bowled along at a rapid pace. The 
only drawback was the dust when we encountered other 
carriages, but this was seldom. Fortunately we faced 
the breeze, which blew our dust behind; but we met 
half a dozen carriages of "Cook's tourists" going the 
other way in close procession, enveloped in clouds of 
dust, and they must have suffered much. We met 
parties of workmen here and there blasting stone or 
repairing the road, and now and then a drove of Italian 
black pigs, peculiar to the peninsula. 

At Vico Equense we found a considerable town, 
situated on a rocky eminence, and beyond this passed 
the Bridge of Arco, a good specimen of bridge archi- 
tecture. The little River Arco comes down to the bay 
here through a deep pass between the mountains, and 
a high bridge is thrown across the wide chasm to main- 
tain the grade of the road. Beyond this we came to 
the plain of Sorrento, a level bit of country sheltered 
by the neighboring mountains, and noted for its 
salubrity and fertility. Here orange, lemon, and olive 

52 



groves, mulberry and fig trees, pomegranates, and SOITGIltO 
other fruit trees, abound, and the whole district seems 
prosperous. As we got nearer to Sorrento the lemon 
and orange orchards increased, and, later on, the road 
was shut in by high stone walls on either side, exclud- 
ing much view of the villas and fruit farms. At Piccolo 
Sorrento (Little Sorrento) we found banners and 
flags and flowers in great array, with much of the popu- 
lation in the street, arranging for a grand festa next 
day (Sunday), with fireworks at night. 

We reached Sorrento early in the evening, and 
drove through an avenue of orange and lemon trees 
and a wilderness of roses and flowers — geraniums, 
pansies, hollyhocks, and pinks — down to the Hotel 
Vittoria. We were dusty and tired, and a hotel never 
seemed more welcome, nor a dinner more delicious. 
The Vittoria is indeed a fine hotel. It stands on a 
rocky bluff, overlooking the Bay of Naples, with 
lemon and orange grove back of it, and Vesuvius and 
Naples across the bay superbly in front. It is a modern 
structure, spacious and well appointed, and as it was 
between the seasons, a dozen or so of us, mostly Amer- 
icans, had the hotel and grounds all to ourselves. We 
had choice rooms and good beds. We took our meals 
on the terrace, in the open air, with the waves break- 
ing at our feet and Naples and Vesuvius ever before 
us. We had for fruit delicious oranges, figs, cherries, 
and strawberries, grown on the premises or near by; 
and the climate was so nearly perfect it seemed like 
Paradise Regained. By day we had the blue Italian 
skies over us, with scarcely a cloud to mar their sap- 
phire beauty; by night, a wilderness of stars, with the 

53 



European moon majestically overhead, and silvering the sea be- 
Days and neath. We went to Sorrento to spend a day and night 
Ways only, but were so charmed with the place that we 
lingered nearly a week, and were reluctant to depart 
even then. Altogether, I thought Sorrento the most 
beautiful spot upon the earth, and have had no reason 
to change this opinion since. 

The next day was Sunday. There was no Protestant 
service in the town, and so we went to a Roman Cath- 
olic church, and worshiped there. It was a grimy and 
dirty place, and we could not follow the service. But 
we said a "Paternoster" or two in our own way, as 
well as the few Italians present, and afterwards returned 
to the Vittoria. 

Sorrento (the Surrentum of the Romans, and a fa- 
vorite resort of Augustus, Agrippa, Antoninus Pius, and 
other great Romans) is a place of some ten thousand 
population, and renowned for its beauty and salubrity. 
It is a health resort for English and Americans in win- 
ter and for Italians in summer, and has a good deal of 
business and commerce of its own. It makes a specialty 
of inlaid wood in all its branches, particularly tables, 
chairs, and beds, of silk goods, and of fruit, the latter 
of which it exports in large quantities, especially oranges 
and lemons. The Sorrento oranges and lemons are 
celebrated all over Europe, but go mainly to London 
and New York. The workers in wood and silk have 
little shops in their own houses, where you can see 
all the processes going on, both men and women 
working. In the evening some of these workers make 
troupes of performers, and go from hotel to hotel, 
dancing the Tarantella, in brilliant costumes and with 

54 



great glee. Some of them are very handsome, and 
they sang and danced in the moonlight on the terrace 
at the Vittoria, nearly every night we were there, with 
a sweetness of voice and a grace and charm of action 
impossible out of Italy. An old priest told me they 
had twenty churches in Sorrento and about thirty 
priests. "Too many, too many," he added, with a shrug 
of his shoulders, "for a place like Sorrento." He said 
the stipends of the priests had all been cut off by the 
new Italian Gov- 
ernment (Victor 
Emmanuel and 
King Humbert), 
and now many 
priests hardly 
knew how to 
keep soul and 
body together. 
He said he re- 
ceived one franc a 
day (twenty cents) 
for saying mass during the week, and three and a half 
on Sunday (seventy cents) for masses then, or $1.90 
a week in all, and some marriage and funeral fees oc- 
casionally; but his total income would not support him 
were it not for a legacy his father had left him. He 
said most of the priests were even worse off, that taxes 
were high and living dear; and yet they did not want 
to go back to the old Bourbon times. Then they were 
all slaves; their letters were opened; there were spies 
everywhere; nobody had any liberty of thought or 
speech. But now, at least, they were free, and he hoped 

55 



Sorrento 




Hotel Vit- 
toria, Sor- 
rento 



European the times would improve, and the laity after a while 
Days and learn how to support the clergy voluntarily, as they 
Ways did in England and America. He said the present 
trouble with Italy was "too many" priests and "too 
many" soldiers;* they produced nothing and cost too 
much, and evidently he was a wide-awake and pro- 
gressive man. He had been to England, and wanted 
to visit America, but feared he never would. "It was 
a long way there, and he was a poor sailor !" 

In ancient days Sorrento surpassed Naples, and was 
rich in temples and villas, but has fallen much into 
decay. It still has a piazza, however, where a band 
plays in the evening; a public garden overlooking the 
sea; a cathedral; a temple of Hercules; a temple of 
Neptune; and a statue of the poet Tasso, who was born 
here. His marble effigy stands in the little piazza; but 
the house in which he was born has been swallowed up 
by the sea. I amused myself in walking about the 
streets, inspecting the shops and stores, talking or try- 
ing to talk to the officers and soldiers, the sailors, the 
postmaster, the customs officers, the priests, and pretty 
much everybody I met, and picked up considerable Ital- 
ian at the expense of much English. 

Of course, we made the excursion from Sorrento to 
Capri and the Blue Grotto. This is the one thing to 
do, when at Sorrento, and every tourist does it. My 
son went by sailboat, with a young Philadelphian who 
was summering at Sorrento, and enjoyed the sail greatly. 
But the rest of us went by the little steamer which 



* Italy, with a population of thirty million, has three hundred thou- 
sand priests and monks (about one-half monks), and nearly as many sol- 
diers. " Too many ! too many ! " as the old Sorrento padre well said. 

56 



makes the trip from Naples via Sorrento twice daily. Capri 
It is much like the trip from New York to Coney Island 
or Long Branch, but more picturesque and romantic. 
Capri itself is a small mountainous island, off the Bay 
of Naples, noted for its genial climate, and the Blue 
Grotto is a cavern in its side, only about three feet high 
at the entrance, but rising inside to the height of forty- 
one feet, with a length of one hundred and seventy-five 
by one hundred feet. The water is several fathoms 
deep, and the refraction of the light from the outside 
makes everything inside dazzlingly blue, while objects 
in the water shine like silver. It was known to the 
Romans, but lost in the Middle Ages, and rediscovered 
in 1826, since when it has been a favorite attraction. 
There are other caverns and grottoes along the coasts 
of Capri, but none so famous as this. The island con- 
tains about five thousand inhabitants, and its visitors are 
reported at thirty thousand annually. The men often 
emigrate to South America, to Argentina chiefly; but 
generally return home, they love Capri so dearly. Here 
also the Roman emperors used to come a-pleasuring, 
and they founded vast palaces, temples, baths, and aque- 
ducts here. On one of the highest points of Capri the pa- 
latial villa of Tiberius is still pointed out; but it is now 
in ruins and used partly as a cow-house. They show 
you the cliff from which, it is said, Tiberius used to hurl 
his slaves headlong down into the sea as a pastime and 
sport for his Roman guests. But our modern human 
nature refuses to believe in such hideous and wanton 
cruelty, and modern historical critics declare this a 
myth. 

Leaving Sorrento after lunch (June 14th), we drove 

57 



European thence by carriage to Amalfi the same evening. It 
Days and threatened showers every hour, but we had only a few 
Ways sprinkles, and the clouds served to veil the hot sun. 
The road ascends the mountains by abrupt passes, 
through lemon, orange, and olive groves, and then 
winds along the face and top of cliffs, overlooking the 
Gulf of Salerno, the entire way. This road is, indeed, 
a wonderful piece of engineering, and the whole ride 
picturesque and sublime. The blue and boundless sea 

is always in sight, 
with white specks 
of ships or fishing- 
boats dotting it 
here and there, 
and with its waves 
breaking and 
thundering at the 
base of the cliffs. 
The mountains 
are all about, and 
frequent moun- 
On the Road j- a j n torrents rush down into the sea, under solid bridges 
Amalfi ^ ln ^ to ^ ast a thousand years. Much of the road is 
blasted out of the rock or built upon masonry, and in 
places even tunnels have been necessary. Olive-trees 
climb the mountain sides, and flocks of goats now and. 
then appear; but the country, as a whole, is wild and 
desolate, with only a peasant's hut or hamlet here and 
there. Just the place for brigands, we all thought, and 
so it used to be. But every few miles we met a pair 
of mounted carbineers, patrolling the road (thanks to 
the new Italian regime), trim and soldierly looking fel- 

58 




lows, and this system seems to have ended brigandage Afflalfi 
all over Italy. The contadini, or country peasants, 
shaggy and hungry-looking customers, looked at us 
askance; but their children, ragged and wild-eyed as 
young deer, danced around our carriage, and some- 
times ran for a mile by our side, with flying elfin locks 
and extended hands, crying, "Macaroni! macaroni, 
Sefiors!" A few centessimi (a fifth of a cent) would 
satisfy them, all scrambling for the coins, and then the 
lucky ones, with 
radiant smiles, 
would toss us 
kisses, and "May 
the Madonna 
bless you!" 

It was dusk 
when we reached 
Amalfi and clam- 
bered up to the 
Hotel Cappuccini, 
an old Capuchin 
monastery in use as a hotel, high up on a rocky cliff Hotel Cap- 




overlooking the town and sea. It was founded in 12 12 
by the Cistercians, but in 1583 passed into the hands 
of the Capuchins. It 1867 it was suppressed by the new 
Italian Government, and sold to the city of Amalfi, 
which now leased it as a hotel for eight thousand francs 
a year. There is no carriage-way up to it, but we had 
to ascend a broad flight of stone steps hundreds in 
number. It was a weary climb, but we were repaid by 
good quarters and an excellent dinner. We slept in 
the old cells of the monks, now converted into bed- 

59 



PUCCINI, 

Amalfi 



European rooms, and the next morning had a delightful stroll 
Days and around the cloisters, veranda, and flower-gardens, with 
Ways orange and lemon trees and roses everywhere, and mag- 
nificent views along the coast and off at sea. 

Amalfi is now only a little town of seven thousand 
inhabitants; but in the Middle Ages it was an active 
seaport of fifty thousand inhabitants, and rivaled even 
Pisa and Genoa. It is situated in the midst of wild and 
picturesque mountains and rocks, and a few months after 
we were there a landslide carried the whole Cappuccini 
cliff, hotel and all, nearly down into the sea, with the 
loss of many lives. Longfellow was once there, and 
wrote some verses on Amalfi, and the hotel proprietor 
had his portrait on the wall, along with Gladstone's and 
others who had been his guests. He was an old gentle- 
man, of the true Italian Boniface type, taking great 
pride in his unique hotel and its belongings, and I won- 
der whether he perished in the landslide. He regaled us 
with many a good story in his broken English, more than 
half Italian, and we smoked and talked far into the night. 
From Amalfi to Salerno the ride was much the same 
as the day before, but less wild and picturesque. The 
road follows the rocky coast overlooking the sea, with 
frequent villages and towns, and vineyards and lemon 
groves everywhere. The people seemed to be a hardy 
and industrious race, living partly on the sea and partly 
on the land, and it was easy to see where our daring 
Italian sailors come from. Salerno (the ancient Saler- 
num) is a city of twenty thousand inhabitants, at the 
northern extremity of the bay of the same name, and 
has considerable trade and commerce. In the Middle 
Ages it belonged to the Lombards and Normans, and 

60 



was a place of importance, but has much decayed. It Salerno 
has one fine street along the sea, called the Corso Gari- 
baldi, with an equestrian statue of Victor Emmanuel; 
but most of its streets are narrow and irregular, re- 
minding one of the ninth and tenth centuries. Its old 
cathedral, erected A. D. 1084, has some fine antique 
columns brought from Psestum, and some ancient sar- 
cophagi, and some bronze doors made in Constantinople 
in 1099; but, as a whole, it is tawdry and disappointing. 
The main thing 
in all this region 
is the mountain 
and coast drive 
from Sorrento to 
Salerno, with its 
superb views of 
land and sea, and 
that repays one a 
hundred-fold. 
There is nothing 
finer in all Eu- 
rope, I apprehend; and that means in the whole world. Positano, 

From Salerno we went by railroad back to Naples, 
first through mountains and hills nearly to Pompeii, 
and thence up the bay coast via Herculaneum, back 
again to Naples. We stopped at Naples again for a 
day or two, to complete some "sight-seeing," and then 
left for Rome (June 19th), arriving there the same after- 
noon. The distance is about one hundred and fifty 
miles, and it took us six hours, or about twenty-five 
miles an hour, the usual speed of the Italian railroads. 
It was an express train, with good European compart- 

61 ' 




LERNO 



European ment cars, and one American sleeping-car. It stopped 
Days and at all the principal towns, of which Capua was chief. 
Ways Capua, the scene of Hannibal's exploits and discom- 
fiture, is still a fortified city of some fifteen thousand 
inhabitants, in a bend of the Volturno, and nearly sur- 
rounded by it, with castellated walls and fosse, and looks 
like a good piece of mediaeval architecture and civil- 
ization. The road skirts the base of the Apennines, or 
makes its way through elevated valleys, and the country 
as a whole is cultivated to the utmost. In places the 
mountains are barren and sterile, reminding one of our 
Rockies in Wyoming and Colorado; but, as a rule, they 
are terraced and cultivated up the slopes and almost to 
the summit, and every little shelf or cliff seems to have 
its olive orchard and goats, if nothing else. 

Around Naples and Capua, and like places, market 
gardens and small farms abound, with irrigation from 
ancient wells everywhere, carried on by ox or donkey 
or man power, and with vegetables, oranges, lemons, 
cherries, and olives as the main products. But farther 
away large farms appear, with rye, barley, and maize as 
the chief crops. Extensive vineyards appear every- 
where, with the vines trained to trees, planted in long 
rows, and crops growing between. Southern Italy was 
in the midst of her grain harvest, and harvesting was 
everywhere going on. Groups of men and women were 
everywhere afield — certainly two women to one man or 
more — all industriously at work with the sickle and rake. 
Not a reaper and binder, nor a horse-rake, did we see 
anywhere, but only the old-fashioned sickle and hand- 
rake. The laborers wore all kinds of garments, in all 
sorts of colors, but with blue and red predominating. 

62 



How hard they worked, early and late, and for a mere TO Rom6 
pittance of wages — fifteen to twenty cents a day only! 
But they did not seem to mind it, and, on the whole, 
appeared to be a happy, industrious, frugal, and healthy 
race of people. 

Farmhouses and buildings, usually of stone, are scat- 
tered about these Italian farms, much as in America, 
contrary to our expectations. But the villages and 
towns are usually on some hill or mountain side. Here 
the people once huddled for protection, and, as a rule, 
they still cling to these mountain fastnesses. The moun- 
tains are everywhere crowned with castles and monas- 
teries, now mostly in ruins, and the real life of Italy in 
former ages seems to have been largely there. Here 
were the homes of her "robber barons" and priests in 
mediaeval days, and Italy seems to have been literally 
full of them. They at least protected their own serfs 
and liegemen, and would allow nobody else to oppress 
or plunder them. 

As we neared Rome the whole country side went to 
vineyards, with grapevines trained to perpendicular 
stakes, looking for all the world like an American pole- 
bean field. At Frascati, about twenty miles from Rome, 
we struck the Roman Campagna, which is a great level 
meadow or prairie-like expanse, reminding one of the 
entrance to Chicago. Ruined towers and broken aque- 
ducts dot the Campagna everywhere. But beyond it 
lies the "Eternal City," and over all and dominating the 
whole Roman landscape looms the mighty dome of 
St. Peter's. 



63 




Chapter IV 

E were in Rome a week, and explored all 
parts of it, and yet saw but little of it really. 
One ought to be there a month, or a year, 
or ten years, and even then he would not 
see Rome completely. It is so old and so vast, so his- 
toric and artistic, and has so much to interest you. But 
you can see a good deal in a week, if you keep your eyes 
open; and that is what we did, or tried to do. Let me 
see if I can tell you a little of what we saw, or how 
Rome impressed us. 

First of all, Rome strikes an American as a good 
deal of a city still. It is true it is inland — some twenty 
or thirty miles from the sea — and has no commerce or 
manufactures to speak of; but Rome now numbers 
nearly a half million of inhabitants, and seems fairly 
prosperous and progressive. As the capital of United 
Italy, all the Government offices and foreign embassies 
are here, and that brings much business and many peo- 
ple to Rome. So, also, as the capital of the Roman 
Catholic world and the home of the pope, she is the 
Mecca of all good Roman Catholics, and they literally 
swarm at Rome, both priests and laymen, not only from 
Italy and Europe, but from all over the world. It is 
said her priests and soldiers are the same — ten thousand 
each — in St. Peter's alone one hundred and fifty priests. 

6 4 



In some respects Rome is modern and progressive; but Rome 
she lives chiefly upon her past glories, her antiquities 
and art, and foreigners. The Tiber, which once poured 
into her lap the commerce of the world, is now a tawny 
little stream about a hundred yards wide by ten to fif- 
teen feet deep — except during spring freshets, when it 
booms like a Western river — and seems of little use 
except as an open sewer. It is well controlled by good 
stone docks or quays, and we saw a few little steamboats 
and sailing vessels using it, but few and far between. 
But she has railroads connecting her with all the other 
Italian cities, and these bring trade and travel to Rome, 
more or less the year round. 

She has good streets, well-paved and clean as a rule, 
often wide and straight, though narrow and winding in 
her old quarters, and often very picturesque. Her 
buildings, as a whole, are good, of both stone and 
brick — not a frame house in all Rome, I think, and con- 
sequently no fires. The Italian architects and builders 
know how to erect fireproof buildings, with iron beams, 
and stone or tiled floors everywhere, and no woodwork 
anywhere, except doors and window-frames, and these 
also are of metal frequently. 

Mediaeval in some respects, yet Rome has electric 
cars and automobiles (one line to St. Peter's, another 
to the Forum, Colosseum, St. Paul's Beyond the Walls, 
etc.), and crowded omnibuses, and busy cabs, and elec- 
tric lights, and flying bicycles (there was a Pilgrimage 
on bicycles from Padua to Rome along the old Via 
iEmilia recently), and a pure and abundant water- 
supply; and in many ways, indeed, Rome strikes one as 
a live and growing place still. Her water supply is from 
5 65 



European the Sabine Mountains, by both ancient and modern 
Days and aqueducts — fifty miles long and over two thousand years 
Ways old — and is so abundant that she has gushing fountains 
everywhere. Some of these are old and curious, as the 
Triton and the Tortoises; others vast and imposing, as 
the Trevi, spouting thirteen million gallons daily; others 
simply beautiful and artistic, as those in front of St. 
Peter's; but they all abound in gushing waters, flashing 
and dancing in the sunlight, as if Rome had a super- 
abundance of liquid silver, and knew not what else to 
do with it. Walk up to the Quirinal and see how the 
King of Italy lives; drive up the Corso, and see what 
shops and stores Rome has; ascend the Pincian Hill, the 
heart of Roman wealth and fashion, and look around 
you; go to the Villa Borghese, a great park and gallery 
near the heart of the city, but so secluded it seems the 
country; or drive up and around the great Janiculum 
Hill, and see the statue of Garibaldi against the opal- 
escent sky, with St. Peter's to the left and all Rome 
beneath and around you, with new streets and trees 
stretching away to the wide horizon, — and you can't 
help thinking of Rome as a handsome city, with a great 
future still; or as if she were really and truly what her 
friends delight to call her, "The Eternal City !" 

What a magnificent place she must have been in her 
old days, two thousand years ago, when she sat serene 
upon her seven hills, and overflowed into the valley of 
the Tiber and into the great plain of the Campagna be- 
yond her! The Campagna is now malarious and pesti- 
lential, but was then smiling with farms and villages, the 
garden and granary of all Italy. The Italian Govern- 
ment has laid its firm hand upon it, and in due time 

66 



According 



will subdue and civilize it, when it will yet rival our 
Western prairies, where, as Emerson well said, "You 
have only to tickle the earth with a hoe and she laughs 
at you back with a harvest." In those old days Rome 
numbered two or three millions of inhabitants. She was 
a walled city, with thirty-seven gates, from which roads 
radiated to all parts' of the Roman Empire, which then 
embraced both shores of the Mediterranean and pretty 
much the whole of the then known world, 
to Zacharias, a 
monk, who vis- 
ited there in 540, 
Rome then had 
over 400 streets, 
17,097 palaces, 
13,052 fountains, 
80 large statues of 
gods in gilded 
bronze, 66 in 
ivory, 3,785 in 
bronze of emper- 
ors and great men, 22 colossal equestrian statues in 
bronze, 31 theaters, 11 amphitheaters, 9,026 baths, and 
dwelling-houses innumerable, and was well called the 
"Mistress of the World," the "Eye of the Whole 
Earth," and the "Hub of the Universe." One can well 
believe all this, after gazing upon her enormous ruins 
and colossal antiquities; and yet she utterly perished, 
so that in the year 547, after her capture by Totila, it 
is recorded that for forty days there was not one living 
being within her vast walls. Her ivory statues have all 
disappeared. Of her gilded statues only two remain. 

6 7 



Rome 




Rome from 
the Dome of 
St. Peter's 



European Of her twenty-two bronze horsemen, only one now re- 
DayS and mains — Marcus Aurelius on the Capitoline Hill, spared 
Ways by the Barbarians and the Romans of the Middle Ages 
because believed to be Constantine the Emperor, 
founder of Roman Christianity. (Rydberg, 303, etc.) 
How vast her old ruins and antiquities are, it is 
difficult to realize, until one actually sees them. We had 
read about them all our lives, and dreamed about them 
many years, but here they were face to face. Rome's 
very origin dazes you, begun over seven hundred years 
before Christ. Her ancient walls of brick, planned by 
Romulus and Remus, so they say, are still intact in part. 
We wandered over the Palatine and Capitoline and 
Quirinal Hills, strewn with broken capitals and columns. 
We stood by the Arch of Septimius Severus and Trajan's 
Column. We walked into the Cloaca Maxima, old 
Rome's ancient and greatest sewer, still in good use. 
We rode through the Arch of Titus, built to commem- 
orate his victories over the Jews and the Fall of Jeru- 
salem (A. D. 81), with the table of showbread, the 
golden candlesticks, etc., carved thereon. We visited 
the Mamertine Prison, an underground dungeon, where 
Peter and Paul were incarcerated, and from which they 
were led forth to martyrdom. We walked through the 
Forum, where the Roman Senate and people used to 
assemble, and deliberate, and vote, and where Cicero 
spoke and Caesar fell. We went to the Colosseum, 
where a hundred thousand Romans used to sit and 
watch their great games and shows, and shout over the 
victors; where, in Titus's time, they celebrated the one 
thousandth anniversary of the founding of Rome, with 
one thousand wild beasts roaring in the arena, and two 

68 



thousand gladiators fighting each other to the death. Rome — 
Next we visited Caracalla's Baths, where two thousand PfllaGGS 
persons could bathe at once (hot, cold, and tepid baths) ; 
and they had a race-course also, — all embraced within 
the same walls, the area being over a thousand feet in 
length, by nearly as many wide. Here also, on the Pala- 
tine Hill, was once the magnificent palace of Septimius 
Severus, four hundred and ninety feet long by three hun- 
dred and ninety wide and one hundred and sixty high, 
a veritable "mountain of masonry," but now only indis- 
tinguishable ruins. 

How colossal and magnificent these old edifices once 
were, built of brick and encased with marble, we can 
not conceive now; but we can imagine somewhat from 
the vast ruins remaining, and from the exquisite statues, 
bronzes, mosaics, etc., still unearthed there; such as 
the Farnese Bull, the Hercules and the Flora at Naples, 
and other marvels of art and architecture scattered 
through Rome, and indeed all over Italy and Europe, 
that once belonged there. For centuries Christian 
Rome regarded her heathen ruins as her best quarries, 
and literally gutted them of their marbles, bronzes, 
mosaics, etc., for her churches and palaces. And what 
she could not use herself she gave away, or sold abroad, 
until now scarcely a marble slab is left about her ancient 
buildings — only crumbling bricks and mortar. 

What a wonderful people those old Romans must 
have been; what engineers, architects, and artists; what 
orators, poets, and philosophers; what politicians and 
statesmen, as well as great soldiers! You think of all 
these things as you wander about her old ruins, and 
want to sit down and meditate alone, tired of guides 

6 9 



European and their chatter. Here Romulus and Remus located 
Days and and once lived; they show you the old she-wolf and 
Ways the famous twins in antique bronze on the Capitoline 
Hill still. Here great Csesar rose and fell, assassinated 
in the capitol. Here Cicero spoke, as seldom man 
spake. Here Virgil and Horace sang. Here Severus, 
and Trajan, and Augustus triumphed. Here Kabius 
stood, like Washington and Lee; and Scipio and Beli- 
sarius fought, like Grant and Sherman. Here Peter 
and Paul preached and suffered. Here great Rome 
(and her soul or ghost) is still — ''the glory that was 
Greece and the grandeur that was Rome." What does 
it all mean? How could they all have passed away? 
And who and what are to come afterward? 

All this comes to you and charms and humbles you, 
uplifts, and inspires, and subdues you. And yet, after 
a while, you come to yourself, and rise up from the 
broken capital or column upon which you have been 
sitting, and walk away to your hotel, and thank God you 
are an American citizen. It was a good thing to be 
a Roman citizen, but ten times better to be an American. 
Of course, we went to her great galleries and gor- 
geous churches. We went to the Vatican, the Pope's 
Palace and vast museum and gallery, with its eleven 
thousand rooms, filled with paintings, mosaics, and 
statuary, unsurpassed upon the earth. For centuries 
the popes have vied with each other as great art col- 
lectors, and have ransacked the world for masterpieces, 
regardless of cost; and here they all are in the Vatican, 
or St. Peter's, just adjoining. Here are wonders of 
art from Greece, Egypt, and Asia Minor; the best things 
of Phidias, Praxiteles, and perhaps Apelles. Here are 

70 



the best things of Raphael, Michael Angelo, Titian, Rome — Art 
Rubens, Guido Reni, Paul Veronese, Carlo Dolce, Fra 
Angelico, Leonardo da Vinci, Andrea del Sarto, Van 
Dyck, Correggio, Murillo, Velasquez, Domenichino, 
Salvator Rosa, Claude Lorraine, and others. Here are 
the matchless statues of Laocoon, the Apollo Belvidere, 
Father Nile, Torso of Hercules, Zeus, so world-re- 
nowned, and justly so. In the Sistine Chapel is Michael 
Angelo's great painting of "The Last Judgment;" the 
good ascending to paradise, and the bad sinking to 
perdition; angels wooing the one upwards, and devils 
dragging the other downwards. Every phase of human 
life and character, every variety of action and emo- 
tion, is depicted in it by the great master of modern 
art. And yet, it must be confessed, the great painting 
is disappointing at first, it is so vast and awful. But 
afterwards its true grandeur and sublimity and su- 
preme genius appeal to you, and you are uplifted and 
inspired, as if standing on some lofty mountain-peak 
or soaring aloft on eagles' wings. The Sistine Chapel 
was closed the first morning we were there, preparing 
for some function where Pope Leo himself was to 
officiate. But a few coins to the liveried doorkeeper 
proved an "open sesame," and we had the famous 
chapel to ourselves. Subsequently we visited it again, 
and "The Last Judgment" grew constantly upon us 
as something wonderful, weird, and mysterious, as I 
think it does upon all beholders. 

Next we went to the Rospigliosi Palace, and saw 
Guido Reni's great picture "Aurora," or Apollo as god 
of the day, seated in his golden chariot drawn by the 
fiery horses of the Sun, while Aurora scatters roses and 

7i 



European flowers before him, and the Hours, as lovely goddesses, 
Days and dance airily around him. Altogether, to my thinking, 
ways this was the finest painting we saw in Rome. Then 
we went to the Barberini Palace, to see the famous 
picture of Beatrice Cenci, also by Guido Reni. Then 
to the Capitoline Museum, where the most antique 
and curious things of old Rome are collected — arms, 
armor, utensils, bronzes, marbles, and the like, includ- 
ing the "Dying Gladiator." Then to the Doria Palace, 
the Colonna Palace, the Borghese Palace, and others, 
where all that is beautiful in art or exquisite in taste 
seems to have been brought together; paintings and 
statuary in all these by the acre, by the great artists 
of all lands and all ages, though but few have been 
mentioned here. 

Next we went to the Pantheon, an old heathen 
temple from old Roman days, but still well preserved, 
and now in use as a Christian church, with no side 
windows, but lighted by a single circular window in 
the dome, thirty feet in diameter. The dome itself is 
one hundred and forty feet high, and its diameter the 
same, the whole edifice being stately and impressive. 
It is of ancient Roman brick, and was originally coated 
with marble, but scarcely a block of this remains, it 
having been quarried away and used for buildings else- 
where about the city. Its old walls are twenty feet in 
thickness, and it is said to be "the only ancient edifice 
at Rome which is still in perfect preservation;" that is, 
whose original walls and vaulting still stand. Here are 
the tombs of Raphael and other great artists, and, 
though stripped of much of its ancient beauty and glory, 
the Pantheon still charms all observers. 

72 



Then we went to the Church of Santa Maria Mag- Rome — 
giore, the pope's own church, the largest of the eighty ClUirGheS 
churches in Rome dedicated to the worship of the Holy 
Virgin, and one of the most ancient churches there. 
Then to St. Peter in Vinculis, containing Michael 
Angelo's great statue of "Moses" — something of a dis- 
appointment, I think, but greatly celebrated. Then to 
Santo Maria de Capitoli, on top of the Capitoline Hill, 
the oldest church in Rome. Then to St. Paul's Beyond 
the Walls, on the 
Campagna, just 
outside of Rome, 
with its superb 
ancient mosaics 
and splendid mar- 
ble columns, one 
of the finest 
churches in all 
Europe, surpris- 
i n g everybody, 
but so fever- 
stricken that nobody dares to stay there at night, and ^ HE FoRUM 
absolutely without worshipers as a rule, its rich stained- 
glass windows shattered by the explosion of a powder 
magazine several years ago, and not yet restored. 

Next we went to St. John in Lateran, one of the 
best preserved basilicas of old Rome, dating back to 
the first century of the Christian era, and long called 
"the mother and head of all the churches of this city 
and globe," with its ancient baptistery and museum, 
and antique busts and statues and mosaics, and leaden 
pipes from ancient aqueducts, and exquisite frescoes 

73 




Rome 



European and paintings, and wonderful ancient bronze doors; a 
Days and pair of the latter from Caracalla's Baths, with silver 
Ways mixed with the bronze, and so pitched and tuned that 
their very creaking is melodious, and hence called St. 
John's ''musical doors." Then to Scala Santa, or 
Church of the Holy Stairs, containing twenty-eight 
broad marble steps from Pilate's palace at Jerusalem, 
which Jesus is said to have once ascended, and may 
now be ascended only on one's knees, descending by 
two adjoining flights. They are now protected with 
wood at the edges, having been deeply worn away by 
the knees of sometime worshipers there. These are 
the "stairs" which Martin Luther mounted, partly on 
his knees, after his long pilgrimage from Germany, and 
then suddenly rose and turned Protestant, light break- 
ing in upon his soul and dissipating his old supersti- 
tions when the memorable words, "The just shall live 
by faith," rang in his ears like the chime of distant 
church-bells. Then to the Church of the Cappuccini, 
with its four thousand skulls and skeletons ranged 
about its walls and grinning horribly at you. There 
are four great open-air burial-vaults here, decorated in 
a ghastly manner with the bones of about four thou- 
sand departed Capuchins, grouped about the walls and 
sides — skulls and skeletons everywhere — some of them 
arranged as lamps, candelabras, and chandeliers. Each 
vault serves as a tomb, and contains holy earth brought 
from Jerusalem. When a monk or priest died the body 
which had been longest interred was removed to make 
way for him, and then the old corpse was boiled and 
stripped of its flesh, and its bones paraded as aforesaid. 
Of course, all this is stopped now, but there is no con- 

74 



ceit these old monks did not indulge in, however queer Rome — 
or horrible. In a side chapel is a famous picture of DllIHjeon 
Guido Reni's "St. Michael and the Dragon," one of 
the art treasures of Rome, and justly world-renowned. 

Then we went to the Mamertine Prison, an un- 
derground dungeon from old Roman days, where 
Jugurtha was strangled, and Peter and Paul were im- 
prisoned, and miraculous springs then burst forth that 
they might baptize their jailers; and Peter's head made 
a deep indentation in the solid rock when slapped by 
a brutal Roman soldier, so the monkish guide tells 
you. He shows you the big dent in the rock still, and, 
of course, it must be so. How else would the dent have 
got there? This Mamertine Prison is a cold and clammy 
place, even in the Roman summer; and the wonder 
is how men managed to sustain human life in such a 
subterranean dungeon, even briefly. They have a dingy 
and dirty little chapel there now, with ill-smelling 
kerosene lamps and candles burning, and a shabby 
priest or two in attendance, and they show you an old 
opening in the ancient wall, communicating with the 
Cloaca Maxima, through which Roman prisoners, when 
dead or slain, or even half dead, it is said — if the prison 
was wanted for others — were cast into the Roman 
sewers. An uncanny and horrible old place, in very 
truth ! 

We did not take in all these churches in the above 
order exactly, and we saw many others. There are 
about four hundred churches in Rome altogether, of 
all kinds, and, of course, it is the most ecclesiastical 
place in the world. But these were the chief churches 
we saw, and then we went to St. Peters, and visited 

75 



European it three times. Our first visit was for a cursory view 
Days and only, and we drove all around and about it; our second 
Ways for a more critical observation and examination; and 
our third to verify some details we were not certain 
about. The other churches, as a rule, are plain out- 
side, but gorgeous inside; as a whole, I fear, somewhat 
disappointing. But St. Peter's is a great and wonder- 
ful ecclesiastical edifice, the largest building in the 
whole world, and, like the sea or some great moun- 
tain-peak, grows upon you the more you behold it. 
Its very history dazes you : founded by the Emperor 
Constantine in the first century after Christ, on the 
site of Nero's circus, where the early Christians were 
burned and sacrificed to wild beasts, and St. Peter 
himself is said to have suffered martyrdom; only a little 
tomb or mortuary chapel at first, where Christian men 
and women met to weep and pray, on the spot where 
Peter had died. But this grew at length into a noble 
church, with colonnades, chapels, and monasteries, its 
interior sumptuously decorated with gold and silver, 
mosaics and marbles. Here Charlemagne was crowned 
in the year 800 as chief of the great Roman Empire, 
and subsequently numerous emperors and popes came 
here to be crowned. In the course of time this old 
edifice became unsafe, and about 1400 it was pulled 
down, and the present church begun; but it was not 
finished until 1626 — over two centuries in building. 
Rossellino, Bramante, Raphael, Michael Angelo — the 
greatest architects and engineers of their time — all had 
a hand in it, and the treasuries of the world were ex- 
hausted in completing it. How vast and grand it really 
is! Its great dome — the greatest in the world — dom- 

76 



inates the whole Roman landscape, and when you Rome — 
stand beneath it and look upward you seem to be gaz- St. Peter's 
ing into the very Italian sky itself. This dome was 
designed and built by Michael Angelo himself, that 
wonderful painter, sculptor, architect, and engineer, 
all rolled into one; one of the most remarkable men 
that ever lived, seemingly half genius and half lunatic 
at times; who declared one day, in talking about St. 
Peter's, that he "would take the heathen Pantheon, 
colossal as it was and is, and swing it into the air, as 
a dome for our Christian Church." And he did it mag- 
nificently; for it is just about the size of the old Pan- 
theon, and you could hide the Pantheon in it. 

You get to St. Peter's by electric tram-cars, if you 
want to do so, which seems an anachronism in old 
Rome. Or you take a cab and drive through its nar- 
row and winding streets, and crossing the Tiber by the 
castle of St. Angelo, so reach St. Peter's. Like most 
of the churches and galleries in Rome, it sits on a hill; 
you have to be forever climbing up and down while 
there. You approach it either through great elliptical 
colonnades, with four rows of travertine columns on 
each side, or by an ancient Egyptian obelisk from 
Luxor, between two magnificent fountains, over broad 
marble steps and platforms leading up to it. You 
ascend these, and enter the church through superb 
bronze doors, each one a work of transcendent art. 
You are struck first with the vastness of the edifice, 
and then with its exquisite harmony and symmetry — 
a very poem in stone. And then, as you pass up its 
great nave and through its long aisles and across the 
transept, and walk about the high altar, and see all 

77 



European the elaborate popes' tombs, exquisite side chapels, con- 
DflyS and fessionals, columns, mosaics, statuary, windows, Ma- 
WayS donnas, and Christs — everything religion can con- 
ceive or art can execute — you become at last simply 
dazed and astonished. You take in its enormous size 
and superb finish, as if the jeweler as well as the archi- 
tect and artist, had been everywhere at work, and St. 
Peters at last becomes something sublime and awful, 
the most magnificent and awful edifice upon the earth, 
an ecclesiastical gem, an architectural miracle, the 
modern wonder of the world. Its greatest frescoes and 
paintings have been removed to the Vatican; but copies 
in mosaic have been substituted, and these are so ex- 
quisite in color and finish they look quite like the orig- 
inals. They have a mosaic manufactory in the Vatican, 
where only skilled artists and workmen are employed, 
for the express business of copying celebrated pictures 
for churches and collectors; and in this delicate work 
they are said to use twenty-five thousand different 
shades of colored glass. Of course, such mosaics will 
never fade, while the best of frescoes and oil-paintings 
presently will; and hence St. Peter's has perpetuated 
the best of her Raphaels, and other artists, in mosaics. 
But then the cost of St. Peter's ! One could not 
help thinking of this also. No pains or expense seems 
to have been spared. The whole world, and all ages 
nearly, have contributed to it, — millions on millions of 
dollars, — until no man can compute its cost, wrung 
largely from human hopes and fears, and which ought 
to have gone mainly into human welfare and human 
betterment, as an American can not but think. What 
a lot of free schools and modern colleges the cost of 

78 



St. Peter's would have built! And would not Italy, Rome — 
and mankind, have been better off with these, and St. Peter's 
fewer priests; and Italians have been better men and 
better citizens? 

Here are a few figures about St. Peter's, that seem 
to me impressive : Its total length is 696 feet; its breadth, 
459 feet; height of dome, 403 feet; its area, 18,000 
square yards (nearly four acres), or about seventy times 
the size of an ordinary American Protestant church. 
The cathedral at Milan contains only 10,000 square 
yards; St. Paul's at London, 9,350; St. Sophia's at Con- 
stantinople, 8,150; and Cologne Cathedral, 7,400. The 
cost of St. Peter's, to the year 1700 only, was $50,000,- 
000, and its total cost is now believed to be over $100,- 
000,000; its annual expense about $50,000. It holds 
80,000 people, so they say, standing up, and in some 
of the great papal functions it is crowded to its walls 
and doors. 

In sharp contrast with St. Peter's, and the Roman 
Catholic churches generally, are the few Protestant 
churches in Rome. Some of these are only hired halls, 
in the second or third story of back streets; others 
obscure and unsightly edifices, with little of the churchly 
about them. But "All Saints," the English church in 
the Via Babuino, is a credit to the Anglican Church, 
with a capacity of about six hundred, though the con- 
gregation consisted of only ten men and forty women, 
by actual count, the Sabbath we worshiped there. Few 
of these were Italians, but most Englishmen and Amer- 
icans. So, also, the American Methodist Episcopal 
church, at the corner of the Via Venti Settembri and 
Via Firenze, opposite the Italian War Department, is 

79 



European an honor to American Methodism, and is doing a gen- 
DayS and nine and great work for Italy. It is excellently located ; 
Ways could scarcely be better in all Rome. It is in a fine 
and growing quarter of the city, on the corner of two 
main avenues, and is on the site of an old Roman Cath- 
olic church, that was itself built on the ruins of an 
ancient heathen temple. It is a church, mission house, 
theological school, and college, all combined. It is 
five stories high, built of stone and brick, and abso- 
lutely fireproof. There is no wood in it, except the 
doors and window-sashes. The beams are of iron and 
steel. The floors are concrete and tiles. One might 
kindle a fire on every floor, and the building would not 
burn. On the first floor are an admirable church and 
chapel for both Italian and English services; on the 
next, printing and publication rooms; on the next, liv- 
ing-rooms for the officers and professors; on the next, 
lecture and recitation rooms; on the next, dormitories 
for the students. Among the students was a grand- 
son of glorious old Giuseppe Garibaldi, and we had 
the pleasure of shaking hands with him. This church 
is well filled on Sunday morning, afternoon, and even- 
ing, chiefly by Italians, and its services are only dis- 
tinguished from Methodist meetings in America and 
elsewhere by the Italian language. Its music and sing- 
ing are superb. It stands there on its magnificent 
corner, in the heart of old Rome, as an American and 
Methodist protest against the mummery and imposture 
and rank paganism of much of what we saw in the 
Eternal City, and says to everybody and everything: 
"Here we are, the Methodista Episcopale Chiesa ! We 
have arrived, and have come to stay!" It is true 

80 



it cost nearly $200,000, land and all; but it was Prot- Rome— 
estant money well spent, and our Protestant Churches Health 
must not hope to capture Italy without some such 
notable expenditure and sacrifice. 

Rome has a bad name for summer heat and the 
Roman fever, so called. But in the latter part of June, 
even, we did not find the heat excessive, and the 
"Roman fever" is believed to be largely a thing of the 
past. The mornings and evenings were delightful. It 
was hot in the sun in the middle of the day, but cool 
in the shade, and so cool in the churches and galleries 
that an extra coat or wrap was really necessary. We 
were warned to beware of the evening air, but went 
everywhere at all hours the same as in America. We 
fell in with "the custom of the country," and took a 
"siesta" — a nap and rest in the middle of the day — 
because everybody else did; but otherwise went every- 
where unharmed. The fact of the matter is, that the 
climate and sanitary condition of Rome have been 
vastly improved of late years (thanks to the new regime), 
by the better drainage and cultivation of the Campagna 
near by, and her death-rate now is, indeed, even less 
than that of Vienna or Paris. In 1899 her death-rate 
was only 17.8 per thousand inhabitants, and her per- 
centage of deaths from typhoid fever was only 1.92, 
from diphtheria 0.34, from influenza or "grippe" 1.14, 
and from malaria 1.89. Her population, too, had in- 
creased from 248,208 in 1871 to 500,610, and her wards 
had been so extended to keep pace with this in- 
crease that what were but recently her suburbs are 
now among the most thickly populated quarters of 
Rome. 

6 81 



European Eor street pavements Rome has mostly large blocks, 
Days and like Naples, or well-fitting Belgian blocks, or asphalt; 
Ways the latter coming into general use now. The old streets 
are without sidewalks or else very narrow ones, often 
only two or three feet wide, with the people walking 
in the middle of the streets; a European custom in all 
the old cities. Her new streets have wide sidewalks, 
the same as our American cities; but still many of the 
people take to the roadway, from old habit or "inherited 
tendency." 

Of course, churches and shrines everywhere abound, 
and "patron saints" are innumerable. Every occupa- 
tion and profession has its own saint, though all worship 
the Virgin, and many seem to worship even the pope. 
He never appears upon the streets of Rome, but con- 
fines himself to St. Peter's and the Vatican, and indeed 
calls himself "the prisoner of the Vatican," because 
not allowed civil jurisdiction any more beyond the 
walls of the Vatican. But when he appears in St. 
Peter's, at the great ecclesiastical functions there, he is 
borne in a great sedan chair, richly decorated, on the 
shoulders of Roman princes, with waving peacock 
plumes before and after him, amid the acclamations 
of the multitude, as if he were a demigod. Even the 
lawyers have their patron saint, though usually they 
know how to take care of themselves the world over. 
The story runs that, in the fourteenth century, one 
Evona or Ives, an eminent attorney of Brittany, was 
lamenting that men of his profession had no patron 
saint to bless and guide them. So he made a pilgrimage 
to Rome, and petitioned the pope to help the lawyers 
out. The pope, of course, was considerably puzzled. 

82 



But finally he told the attorney to go three times blind- Rome — 
folded around the Church of San Giovanni in Lateran, EvOIKi 
and, after he had repeated six Ave Marias, the first 
image he took hold of there should be his patron. 
Evona obeyed orders, and, laying his hands on an image 
at the proper time, he exultantly proclaimed, "This 
is our saint; this be our patron !" But when the bandage 
was removed from his eyes he found he had stopped 
at the altar of St. Michael, and instead of taking hold 
of St. Michael himself he had grasped the image be- 
neath St. Michael's feet — the devil ! It is alleged poor 
Evona was so overcome by the affair that in a few 
months he died. He ascended to Paradise, and when 
he knocked at its gates for admittance he was told by 
St. Peter that there was no room in heaven for lawyers. 
"O, but," said Evona, "I am an honest lawyer who 
never took fees on both sides, nor pleaded in a bad 
cause; nor did I ever set my neighbors together by 
the ears, nor live by the sins of other people !" Where- 
upon St. Peter's heart was moved, and he let him in, 
and thereupon the good advocate of Brittany became 
St. Evona, and the patron saint of all the lawyers ! 
This story is too good to be true; but is probably as 
true as most of the other "patron-saint" stories. 



83 




Chapter V 

DO not know whether it was too much 
"sight-seeing," or a touch of the Roman fever, 
but I broke down, and was glad to get away 
from Rome. We left there June 24th, and 
because I was ill went "first-class." We had a com- 
partment all to ourselves, and enjoyed it much. The 
station at Rome — large and roomy — was dirty and 
discreditable for such a city, and was filled with con- 
tadina or farm-laborers, both men and women, en route 
to Ancona and the summer harvest-fields. They had 
their implements, clothing, cooking utensils, all with 
them, and it is the custom of Italian harvesters thus 
to travel from one district to another in harvest time, 
camping out near their work. We saw them thus all 
over Italy, and they were a merry, happy set of people 
as a rule. 

Our route lay up the valley of the Tiber, constantly 
ascending, skirting the Apennines, and every mile we 
got away from Rome the air became more pure and 
bracing. We were bound for Perugia, an old mountain 
city of Italy, one hundred and twenty-eight miles north 
of Rome, and long before we got there I seemed like 
another man. The valley of the Tiber is never broad — 
from three to five miles only- — but seemed wonder- 
fully fertile and well-tilled. Harvesting was every- 

84 



where going on, and the fields were alive with both Tiber Valley 
men and women actively at work with their sickles 
and hand-rakes, like their ancestors two thousand 
years ago. We did not see a single mower or reaper 
and binder; but it was hand-work everywhere, with the 
proportion of about two women to one man. The 
whole country was one vast vineyard also, with grain 
between the rows of trees and vines. Beyond the Tiber 
Valley, on either side, the land rises into mountains, 
with abrupt peaks and ridges, and these as a rule are 
crowned with villages and towns, or churches and 
monasteries, or the ruins of them. How they ever 
got the churches and monasteries up some of them, 
or why they built them there at all, and at what enor- 
mous labor and expense, surprises and puzzles one. 
I suppose each priest wanted to get higher up and 
build loftier than his brother, on the same principle 
as in America each church tries to build its spire higher 
than its neighbor, and cared little what it cost his peo- 
ple to climb up and down such mountain heights. All 
this would be "imputed to them for righteousness !" 
So he taught, and they devoutly believed. 

As we neared Perugia we got more among the 
Apennines, the great mountain range which runs the 
whole length of Italy and is the backbone of the Penin- 
sula. The day was warm, but showers chased each 
other along the Apennines, and when we reached 
Perugia it was raining hard. It is a ride of a mile 
or two from the station to the town, but we made it 
dry in a good hotel omnibus. Perugia is the capital 
of the province of Umbria, with about twenty thousand 
inhabitants, and is the residence of the prefect, of a 

85 



European military commandant, and a bishop, and is the seat of 
Days and an old university. Pope Leo XIII was formerly bishop 
Ways here, and I think was so when called to the papal chair. 
It is a fine example of an old Italian mountain city, 
and hence our trip there. Indeed, Perugia was an old 
Etruscan city before Rome itself was born, and alto- 
gether is a very picturesque and remarkable old place. 
It lies on the top of a mountain, or rather a group of 
little mountains, about thirteen hundred feet above the 

valley of the 
Tiber, and sev- 
enteen hundred 
feet above the sea, 
with the Apen- 
nines surround- 
ing and stretch- 
ing away beneath 
it. It is built 
in an antiquated 
style, partly on 
top of the moun- 
Rapid tain and partly on its slope, with numerous buildings 
p ' of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when Perugia 
was in its zenith. From a distance it seems perched 
on the very top of an abrupt mountain, and one wonders 
how to get up or down. But a splendid road has been 
dug and blasted out of the mountain side, and this 
winds up and around and zigzags about, and at last 
lands you easily on the summit. A company had re- 
cently been formed to build an electric road from the 
station to the city, right up and around the mountain, 
and the engineer in charge, a bright young Dutchman 

86 




from Antwerp, told us they expected to have it com- PeriHjia 
pleted within a year or so. 

We stopped at the Grand Hotel, on the very sum- 
mit, near the Prefecture, kept by an English landlady, 
and in the best English-Italian style. The table was 
excellent, and our rooms all that could be desired. The 
guests were few, as it was out of the season. But in 
the winter, we were told, this hotel is crowded. The 
air was superb, and the views from the hotel verandas 
and windows magnificent, over the valley of the Tiber, 
and with the Apennines stretching away and around 
and beneath you like a grand amphitheater to the far 
horizon. It reminded us of the views from Lookout 
Mountain, Tennessee, where we had been two or three 
years before. But the Italian scenery is more subdued 
and cultivated, with farms and villages climbing all the 
mountains, as our American mountains may be cen- m 

turies hence. 

In the public square is the inevitable equestrian 
statue of Victor Emmanuel, and in another piazza not 
far away one of Garibaldi also. The Italians have 
statues of these popular heroes in all their cities and 
towns, and they are so much alike they all seem to have 
been designed by the same artist, or as if built by con- 
tract. It rained all the evening the day we arrived; 
but the next morning was clear and glorious, a typical 
Italian morning. It was the Sabbath, but there was no 
Protestant service, and so about 10 A. M. we walked 
up the Corso or main street to the old cathedral of San 
Lorenzo, begun in the fifteenth century and still un- 
finished. The shops and stores were all open as usual, 
and the country people thronged the Piazza del Mu- 

87 



European nicipio in front of the cathedral for their chief market of 
Days and the week. They would slip away into the ancient ca- 
WayS thedral for a few prayers and a touch of holy water, but 
were soon back at their produce and wares again, and 
Perugia gave few signs of an American Sabbath. In 
the quaint old cathedral itself we found two or three 
hundred people, chiefly women and children, and the 
usual Roman mass proceeding. The cathedral contains 
some paintings and statuary not without interest; for 
Perugino himself once lived and painted here, and had 
Raphael for a pupil, and indeed founded a school of 
artists. But we had seen so much of painting and sculp- 
ture at Rome that Perugia now palled on us. 

The Palazzo Publico, or City Hall, is a huge old 
Gothic structure, with its principal fagade towards the 
Corso, and another towards the Piazza del Duomo, or 
Cathedral Square. It dates back to 1281, and has some 
fine windows, a noble portal, and Gothic sculptures of 
the city arms, saints, etc. Over the portal in the Piazza 
del Duomo are a curious griffin and lion in bronze of 
the fourteenth century, and below are old chains and 
gate-bars commemorating the victory by the Perugians 
over the Sienese in 1358, a century and a half before 
Columbus discovered America. Perugia was even then 
a memorable and gallant city, for a place of its size; and 
on many lines it seems to be a live place still, for such a 
mountain town. That afternoon showers set in again, 
real American summer showers, chasing each other 
along and over the Apennines, and it rained steadily all 
the evening; and it became so cool and damp we had 
to have fires kindled in our rooms, in order to be com- 
fortable. And this was June 25th, too. 



The next morning was superb again, and we walked PeriHjid 
and drove all over Perugia. We passed through its 
narrow. and winding streets, where Guelph and Ghibel- 
line used to do valiant battle — so narrow wagons could 
not pass, and so steep that a few men-at-arms could keep 
back a multitude. We explored its quaint old palaces, 
and viewed its ancient Etruscan walls, old before Christ 
was born, and enjoyed the lovely prospects from its 
abrupt cliffs and historic promenades. We saw the gar- 
rison at drill, both infantry and artillery, and pretty good 
work they did, too. The men were a little slouchy, and 
not well set up; but the officers seemed bright and in- 
telligent, as the Italian army officers generally are, and 
Italy will yet have a fighting force equal to her needs. 
All about the city, and scattered well over her mountain 
slopes are old olive-trees, knotted and gnarled, and Ital- 
ian chestnuts, and every foot of ground seems cultivated 
to the utmost. The people seemed happy and con- 
tented, and beggars were at a discount. We did not 
take the drive to Assisi, as recommended; but it must 
be something charming and delightful, and Assisi itself 
is only fifteen miles away. 

Leaving Perugia, we soon crossed the divide be- 
tween the Tiber and Arno, and then descended the val- 
ley of the Arno by Lake Trasimene and Vallombrosa 
to Florence. At Lake Trasimene we passed the historic 
battlefield between Hannibal and Klaminius, June 23, 
B. C. 217 (just about two thousand years ago), where 
the Romans lost fifteen thousand men, or half their army, 
in three hours, and the other half was routed and dis- 
persed. What a great soldier Hannibal really was, and 
how wonderfully he maintained himself in the enemy's 



European country, living on the country, for fifteen years; and 
Days and what a wonder it is that Rome was not captured and 
ways her power destroyed by him ! The ride down the valley 
of the Arno was beautiful and picturesque, and we 
reached La Bella Florence June 26th, late in the after- 
noon. 



90 




Chapter VI 

A BELLA FLORENCE, or Florence the Florence 

Beautiful, as the Italians love to call her. 
They have a fancy for giving surnames to 
their chief cities, as Rome is the Eternal 
City; Naples is, "See Naples and die;" Genoa is Genoa 
La Superba, or the Proud; Milan is Milan La Grande, 
or the Grand; Venice is Venice the Pearl of Italy, or 
the Queen of the Adriatic. But Florence is always La 
Bella or the Beautiful, the City of Flowers, and her very 
name is derived from the Latin Florentia. So a flower 
is her favorite ornament, and it is cut and carved or 
painted everywhere here. She is well named, as noth- 
ing could be more beautiful, situated as she is on the 
banks of the Arno, rich in art and architecture, sur- 
rounded by lovely gardens and picturesque mountains, 
with Fiesole on the north and Lucca on the west, in the 
midst of which she sits as an exquisite jewel, as some 
surpassing opal or diamond, dominating and glorifying 
the wonderful landscape; or, as another has written, 
"Like a water-lily rising on the mirror of the lake, so 
rests on this lovely ground the still more lovely Flor- 
ence, with its everlasting works, and its inexhaustible 
riches," both of literature and art. 

Florence was formerly the capital of the Grand 
Duchy of Tuscany, and then of the Kingdom of Italy, 

9i 



European before Victor Emmanuel went to Rome; but now only 
Days and of a province of the same name. It is the seat of an 
Ways archbishop, the headquarters of an army corps, and 
ranks among the chief cities of Italy. As early as the 
fifteenth century it contained ninety thousand inhabit- 
ants, and now numbers about two hundred thousand. 
While Rome is the ecclesiastical and political center of 
Italy, Florence has long been the focus of its intellectual 
life, and the Florentines have always been distinguished 
for their vigor of mind and pre-eminence in artistic 
talent. Even now their superiority over most other 
Italians is apparent in their manners and dress. It was 
formerly a walled city; but its walls have been almost 
entirely removed, only its ancient gates having been 
spared, several of which are very interesting and beau- 
tiful. 

We stopped at the Pension Picciola, on the Via 
Tornabuoni, in an old fifteenth or sixteenth century 
palace now in use as a pension, and were excellently 
entertained. The proprietor was an Italian gentleman, 
but his wife an English woman of unusual ability, and 
she, in fact, ran the pension. The parlors were spacious, 
overlooking the Arno, and our rooms quite palatial. 
We took all our meals here, and found none better in 
Italy. The location was central and handy to every- 
thing we desired to see, and the only objection was, it 
was a little noisy in the daytime, being near one of the 
chief bridges across the Arno. 

We went first for a drive along the Arno and through 
the city generally, so as to get a general view of Flor- 
ence, and then wended our way to the venerable bap- 
tistery, and to the Duomo, and Giotto's campanile, all 

92 



close together in the chief piazza. The baptistery is FlOrenGG — 
an octagonal structure, founded about noo, and was The DUOHIO 

originally the Cathedral of Florence, in honor of St. 
John the Baptist. All children born in Florence are 
now baptized there. Its chief glories are its three cele- 
brated bronze doors by Ghiberti, decorated with Scrip- 
ture subjects, each one of which is a poem in bronze by 
itself, and one of which is so lovely, that Michael Angelo 
declared it "worthy of forming the entrance to Para- 
dise." The Duomo, or the Cathedral of St. Mary of 
the Lily (so called from the lily in the arms of Florence) 
was erected 1294- 1462 on the site of an earlier church, 
and was the work chiefly of Arnolfo, Giotto, and Brunel- 
leschi. It is built in layers of alternate white and black 
marble, which detracts from its general effect, though 
one can not help being impressed by its simple dignity 
and grandeur. It was nearly two centuries in building, 
and is larger than all previous churches in Italy, being- 
five hundred and fifty-six feet long by three hundred and 
forty-two wide, with a dome three hundred feet high 
(larger than St. Peter's), and a lantern fifty-two feet 
above that. Inside it seems bare, compared with St. 
Peter's and the Roman churches generally; but it con- 
tains some fine monuments, mosaics, and stained-glass 
windows, many of the latter from designs by Ghiberti, 
and, on the whole, is a grand and noble ecclesiastical 
edifice. We visited it several times, and it was a rare 
treat to sit down and ponder it, and to think of what it 
had witnessed, or to wander through its great nave and 
dim aisles at will. Giotto's campanile, or bell-tower, was 
begun in 1334 and completed in 1387. It is a square 
structure two hundred and ninety-two feet high, built 

93 



European in four stories, and richly decorated with colored mar- 
DayS and bles. It is covered with statues and bas-reliefs of saints 
Ways and prophets; of the Seven Cardinal Virtues, the Seven 
Works of Mercy, the Seven Beatitudes, and the Seven 
Sacraments; of the Progress of Mankind from the Cre- 
ation to the climax of Greek Science and Art; and alto- 
gether is a remarkable edifice. Ruskin says it possesses 
"the characteristics of power and beauty to a greater 
degree than any other building in the world;" and I 
suppose, of course, John Ruskin knew. But I confess 
I was disappointed with it at first. It was not so tall, 
nor so massive, nor so beautiful as I had anticipated. 
But the more one saw and studied it, the more it grew 
upon you, and wherever you go in Florence the cam- 
panile rises before you; and in the end you come to 
concede its majesty, and symmetry, and exquisite ap- 
propriateness, and humbly to acknowledge that only 
Giotto could have done it. Like campaniles, on a lesser 
scale, exist all over Northern Italy; but they all seem 
to have been patterned after this one of Giotto's. He 
meant to place a spire on top, one hundred feet high; 
but this would have seemed superfluous, would have 
detracted from its beauty and dignity; and I am glad 
he did not do it. Its magnificent chime of bells rings 
out over Florence at all hours of the day and night, as 
they have rung for five hundred years, and all Italy, in- 
deed, seems to be a land of bells and bell-ringing. On 
one pretext or another, some of them are always ringing, 
and the "tintinnabulation of the bells, bells, bells," be- 
comes a weariness to the tired tourist, until he gets used 
to their perpetual noise. The great bell in Giotto's 
Tower is called the "old Vacca" or Cow, and the lowing 

94 



of the Old Cow, as it is phrased, has been the chief Florence 
signal to summon the Florentines to worship or to arms 
for centuries past. Whenever its brazen tongue rings 
forth at an unusual hour, all Florence knows something 
has happened or is going to happen, and the people 
swarm out of their houses and gather into the public 
squares to learn their happiness or doom. 

Opposite to the campanile, on the south side, is the 
oratory of the Misericordia, an order of monks or 
brothers robed in black from head to foot, and with 
cowls covering their heads, leaving apertures for their 
eyes only. These ghostly creatures are frequently seen 
on the streets of Florence, as the ghosts of other days, 
and the wonder is that grown men would consent to 
masquerade in such outlandish costumes in this day and 
age, or that their fellow-men do not hoot them back 
into their mediaeval cells. Their oratory contains some 
reliefs, statues, and paintings that are not without merit. 
But they should modernize their dress, and behave like 
sane human beings, and not stalk about in open day- 
light as religious scarecrows or ecclesiastical humbugs. 

Next we went to the Church of San Croce, the 
Pantheon of Florence, with its monuments of her great 
men, with a marble pulpit said to be "the most beau- 
tiful pulpit in Italy," with its exquisite sculptures by 
Donatello, and superb frescoes by Giotto and della 
Robbia, and its lovely old cloisters, where it would seem 
one might pray and dream forever. In front of it, in 
the spacious Piazza San Croce, stands a noble statue 
of Dante in marble, nineteen feet in height, erected in 
1865 on the six hundredth anniversary of his birth, with 
its corners adorned with lions and the arms of the chief 

95 



European cities of Italy. Not far off is the house in which he was 
Days and born, and they will show you the step upon which he 
Ways used to sit and meditate his Divine Comedy, so they say. 
Then to old San Marco, where Savonarola preached 
and prayed, and where Fra Angelico, over four centuries 
ago, painted those marvelous frescoes of piety and devo- 
tion that are unrivaled to this day. Then to San Maria 
Novella, which is not so much of a church, though it 
has some handsome Madonnas by Cimabue and some 
celebrated frescoes by Ghirlandajo, but is chiefly noted 
for the piazza in front, with its two obelisks of marble 
standing on brazen tortoises in the axes of an ellipse, 
around which as goals the Florentines used to have 
chariot races on the eve of the festival of St. John. 
Then to the Church of San Maria del Carmine, with its 
wonderful frescoes by Filippino Lippi, relating to events 
in the lives of the apostles, especially St. Peter. Then 
to the Church of San Spirito, a basilica in the form of a 
Latin cross, covered with a dome and containing thirty- 
eight altars after a design by Brunelleschi, with numer- 
ous Corinthian columns and pillars supporting its noble 
interior, and with paintings and windows by Perugino, 
Lippi, and Ghirlandajo. Then to the Chapel of the 
Medici, with its rich frescoes illustrating the journey of 
the Magi, with its kings and knights and pages in sump- 
tuous array, winding their way through a rich cham- 
paign country, and with charming angels in the Garden 
of Heaven on the window-walls, of admirable design and 
finish. Then to other churches also, with their Ma- 
donnas, and saints, and crucifixions, and frescoes, by art- 
its of more or less merit, but chiefly old masters, until 
we got well tired of this whole church business. 

9 6 



Next we went to the Uffizi Gallery, of course, and to Florence- — 
the Pitti Gallery, and saw collections of paintings and Art Galleries 
sculptures not inferior to those at Rome, and some of 
them quite superior. Of course, they are not so exten- 
sive; but they have a beauty and excellence that are 
incomparable, and show a fineness of art and an exquis- 
iteness of taste that have made Florence world- 
renowned, and will keep her so. Indeed, there is no 
such an array of masterpieces in so small a compass 
anywhere in the world. Here are Raphaels, Murillos, 
Titians, and Van Dycks, not surpassed by anything in 
the Vatican. Here is Raphael's "Madonna della Sedia," 
or Madonna of the Chair, with the Virgin seated in a 
chair, the child Jesus in her loving arms, its Divine cheek 
pressed to her cheek; and there is nothing more touch- 
ing and beautiful in all Europe, in my judgment. Here 
also are the lovely pictures of Ghirlandajo, as "The 
Adoration of the Magi," that in design, expression, and 
color seem to me perfect. There may be greater paint- 
ings elsewhere, and I do not pretend to be a connois- 
seur, but these superb works of Ghirlandajo greatly im- 
pressed me, and I only know how they touched and 
thrilled me and others. The little room in which they 
hang was constantly thronged with intelligent visitors, 
while others adjoining were practically empty. Here 
also are Fra Angelico's divine productions, as "The 
Coronation of the Virgin," with his incomparable angels, 
looking so pure and perfect and glorious, as if they had 
just dropped down out of paradise, with their songs and 
musical instruments along with them and in celestial 
tune; and as one gazes upon them with rapt vision he 
may well believe they were heaven-inspired. Evidently 
7 97 



European this old artist-monk did not paint for money, but because 
Days and he had the love of heaven in his heart and a passion for 
Ways beauty in his soul, and he must needs express himself 
along angelic lines. Here also are pictures by Perugino, 
Michael Angelo, Correggio, Rubens, Paul Veronese, and 
the Dutch and Flemish schools, famous the world over. 
Here also are cabinets of gems and precious stones, once 
the property of the great Medicean family, unequaled 
out of the Vatican, if surpassed even there. 

The Pitti Gallery is in the Pitti Palace, on the north 
side of the Arno, a noble building of Cyclopean massive- 
ness and grandeur, erected four or five centuries ago, 
and now the residence of the King of Italy when in Flor- 
ence. We passed through the royal apartments and gar- 
dens, and were charmed with their general beauty and 
good taste. In passing through the Throne Room, I 
ventured to sit down on the throne (to see how an 
American would feel in such a place), to the dismay of 
the attendant. But when I exclaimed, "Viva Victor 
Emmanuel ! Viva Garibaldi !" his scared face broke into 
a smile, and he answered, "Viva George Washington!" 
Then we went to San Miniato, with its fine marble 
fagade, on the hill to the southeast of Florence, beyond 
the Arno, from which there is a noble view of Florence 
and the Arno, and beyond which are the fortifications, 
constructed by Michael Angelo in 1529, and defended 
by him during nearly a year's siege of the city, when he 
was engineer and commander-in-chief for the Republic 
of Florence. What a wonderful man he was to be thus 
artist and soldier both combined — the greatest artist of 
his time, if not of all time, and the greatest engineer of 
his day! 

98 



Of course, we went to the Palazzo Strozzi, on the FIOrenGC- 
Via Tornabuoni, with its three imposing facades (one, Pates 
one hundred and twenty-six feet long by one hundred 
and five feet high), and antique lanterns, and link- 
holders, and rings, built five hundred years ago, and still 
one of the finest specimens of the Florentine palatial 
style; not so large, indeed, as the Pitti Palace, but lighter 
and more buoyant. Its antique street lanterns are so 
artistic and beautiful that they are taken for models in 
New York and Philadelphia to-day, and their reproduc- 
tions sold as "after the Florentine" for our public build- 
ings. As you walk along the street, the noble propor- 
tions of this Strozzi Palace strike you as faultless, and 
it seems impossible to have been built before Columbus 
sailed. 

The Palazzo Vecchio or Old Palace is a huge, castle- 
like building, with projecting battlements and a unique 
tower three hundred and eight feet high, erected in 1298; 
originally the capitol of the Republic, subsequently the 
residence of Cosmo I, but now in use as a town hall. 
Inside it has been elaborately decorated by the hands 
of Michael Angelo, Ghirlandajo, Leonardo da Vinci, 
Vasari, and others, and its walls are also hung with some 
wonderful tapestries of historic and other subjects. The 
Palazzo Vecchio, indeed, is really a grand old edifice, 
most stately and impressive, and with its great Gothic 
tower dominates the city, and in some respects impresses 
one even more than the Duomo. At all events, this is 
how it struck me, and I was never weary of gazing at it. 
It stands on the side of the Piazza della Signoria, in the 
very heart of Florence, the scene of its popular assem- 
blies and tumults, and still a center of business and 

LofC. 99 



European pleasure. Here Guelphs and Ghibellines, patricians and 
Days and plebeians, used to rally around their chiefs and shout 
Ways their battle-cries. It was on this square also, in front 
of the Palazzo Vecchio, that Savonarola was burned at 
the stake May 23, 1498. But now in the great hall of 
the old palace itself stands a colossal statue of him in 
marble, as a perpetual rebuke to the religious bigotry 
of his times, and "the deep damnation of his taking off." 
Near by, on another side of the same public square, 
is the Loggia di Lanzi, a magnificent open-vaulted 
palace, designed for public speeches and public occa- 
sions, and rich with elegant sculptures (erected 1376). 
Faith, Hope, Charity, Temperance, and Fortitude, all 
stand here in exquisite marble, as well as Perseus, Mene- 
laus, Hercules, and other classic characters, in bronze 
or marble, and the effect of the whole is exalted and 
beautiful. Some Italian schoolboys or street-gamins 
were playing hide-and-seek about the marble statues, or 
climbing over the artistic lions and horses and sliding 
down them, the day we were there; but the Florentine 
police paid no attention to their lively antics. 

Next we went to Fiesole, of course, by electric tram- 
cars, from the Piazzo San Marco, near the Duomo. A 
carriage-ride there is best; but it was hot and dusty, and 
the tram-car handiest. It is a ride of about three miles, 
through Florence and its suburbs, and then by zigzag 
grades between high garden-walls up the heights of 
Fiesole. This is an abrupt little mountain, overlooking 
Florence and the valley of the Arno, and justly cele- 
brated for its fine climate and magnificent views. Flor- 
ence lies at your feet, with its domes and towers and pal- 
aces; while the Arno flashes through its lovely valley like 

100 



a thread of silver. On the very top are the remains of 
an ancient Etruscan tower, the Cyclopean walls of which 
are still partly preserved. Just beyond are the ruins of 
an old Roman theater and some Roman baths, and, of 
course, there is a cathedral here, a church or two, and 
a seminary. It would be impossible for the good fathers 
not to pre-empt such a charming spot as Fiesole, and 
to make the most of it. Of course, there is a bishop 
here, and a little town of some two thousand inhabitants, 
the most of whom 
are engaged in 
straw-plaiting, an 
established indus- 
try in much of 
Italy. We took 
"lunch" at Fie- 
sole, sitting under 
a leafy and flow- 
ery arbor, near its 
summit, and gaz- 
ing our eyes full 
at all around and beneath us — a view worthy of Para- 
dise — and lingered along our way back until well into 
the evening. Beautiful Fiesole ! Worthy of La Bella 
Florence ! Hannibal was encamped here before he be- 
gan his direct march on Rome, and I suppose Fiesole 
was just as beautiful then as now. 

The Arno flows through the whole length of Flor- 
ence, from east to west, dividing it into unequal por- 
tions, and is bordered by handsome quays called L,un- 
garno. It is crossed by six bridges, of which the Ponte 
Vecchio, dating back to old Roman days, and re-erected 

IOI 



Florence — 
Fiesole 




Ponte Vec- 
chio, Flor- 
ence 



European in 1362 after repeated demolitions, is the most interest- 
DayS and ing. It consists of three ancient arches, and is flanked 
Ways by houses and shops on either side several stories high, 
and looks more like a picturesque old rookery than a 
modern bridge. Here you can buy anything you want, 
from a watch to a jackknife or a match-box, at reason- 
able prices, provided you know what you are buying. 
The infinity of the articles for sale surprises you, and the 
whole shop consists chiefly of a show-window, with a 

shelf or two in the 
rear. I amused 
myself by wander- 
ing from shop to 
shop here, and 
talking Italian the 
best I could, and 
really secured 
some bargains. 
Beneath, along 
the banks of the 
Arno, the city 
washerwomen were at work, and indeed the whole Arno 
seemed like one vast public laundry. 

Florence, however, abounds in excellent shops and 
stores elsewhere, where objects of art — paintings, statu- 
ary, gems, glass and earthenware, furniture, silks, and 
indeed all kinds of goods — can be purchased, at fair 
prices, and is the delight of English and American 
"shoppers." In winter, it is a regular English and 
American colony, and grows more so every year. The 
little gold coin "florin" was first coined here — so called 

102 




Washing in 
the Arno, 

Florence 



after Florence — and soon became a leading standard of Florence — 
value throughout Europe. Great 

Here in Florence is the house and tomb of Amerigo Families 
Vespucci — the man who gave his name to America, after 
Columbus had discovered it — and there is also a street 
named after him. But we were so absorbed in other 
things that we did not have time to look these up. He 
was no doubt a worthy adventurer; but he stole the 
plumage that belonged to Columbus, and the world lacks 
interest in him. 

Florence is a well-paved city, chiefly with large stone 
slabs, like Naples and old Rome, and its newer streets 
are wide and imposing. But its old streets are narrow 
and winding, with overhanging houses that almost touch 
each other, and often with no footwalks at all. Its streets 
take their names from the old families, the guilds, public 
games, and trades, and the like. The great family of 
the Medici once lived and ruled here, "rich beyond the 
dreams of avarice,'' and with talent and ambition beyond 
their riches; and their names, and palaces, and monu- 
ments, or the names of their descendants, appear every- 
where in Florence. A great race they must have been, 
afterwards sadly degenerate. But they left their mark 
deep and broad on Florence and Italy, and history must 
always make large mention of them. 

And so we saw Florence, and, I need scarcely add, 
were greatly interested. Our only regret was, that we 
could not stay longer and see more. And this, I think, 
is the general experience of all Americans there. And 
so I conclude this chapter, as I began it: '%a Bella 
Florence, forever and a day!" 

103 



* 



Chapter VII 

T is only an hour's ride by railroad, perhaps 
thirty or forty miles, from Florence to Pisa. 
The route is down the valley of the Arno, with 
the little river nearly always in sight, but with 
considerable mountains bounding the landscape, 
crowned here and there with castles, mostly in ruins. 

We were now in the land of the Lombardy poplar, 
and long lines of this grenadier-like tree were every- 
where visible. We arrived at Pisa about 2.30 P. M. 
(June 30th), in the midst of an Italian thunder-shower, 
and encountered a downpour of rain not exceeded in 
America usually. A good omnibus, however, carried us 
dryshod across the Arno, by a fine bridge, to the Hotel 
Victoria, where we got good rooms and excellent meals. 
It rained all the afternoon; but in the evening, after a 
good dinner, we got out a little, with our umbrellas, and 
visited the Lungarno, the old arcades, and the Piazza 
Garibaldi, with its usual fine statue of Garibaldi. 

Pisa is now a city of about thirty thousand inhabit- 
ants, and the capital of a province; but was formerly a 
place of importance and real power in Italy. It was an 
old Roman colony before Christ. Augustus named it, 
and Hadrian and Antoninus Pius erected temples, the- 
aters, and triumphal arches here, all of which have per- 
ished. In the Middle Ages Pisa became one of the great 

104 



cities of Italy, rivaling Genoa and Venice, as a commer- Pisa 
cial and seafaring power. But afterwards Genoa and 
Florence conquered the place, and now it is only the 
shadow of its former self. It now lies six miles from the 
sea, on both banks of the Arno; but is supposed to have 
been much nearer the Mediterranean formerly. The 
city has some art, and some manufactures still; but is a 
sleepy old place, with apparently no future. 

The next morning dawned bright and beautiful, even 
for Italy, and we early wended our way through the 
quaint old streets to the Duomo, the baptistery, the 
leaning tower, and the Campo Santo, the four chief 
things at Pisa, all close together. The old Duomo, or 
cathedral, was erected so long ago as 1063 to commem- 
orate a great naval victory of the Pisans over the Sara- 
cens, and is a noble old basilica, with a nave and double 
aisles, and transept flanked with aisles, three hundred 
and twelve feet long by one hundred and six feet wide, 
and covered with an elliptical dome over the crossing. 
It was partly burned down in 1595, but was subse- 
quently restored, and is still a remarkable old edifice, 
constructed of white marble, with black and colored 
bands for ornamentation. Its facade is especially mag- 
nificent, being adorned with columns and arches, and 
in its upper parts with open galleries. Of its ancient 
bronze gates or doors, only one remains, and this repre- 
sents a score or more of Scriptural scenes, exquisite in 
design and finish. The other doors are also fine, but 
comparatively recent and not equal to this ancient door, 
which charms every beholder. 

Inside, the old cathedral is adorned with altars and 
paintings by Michael Angelo, Andrea del Sarto, and 

105 



European Ghirlandajo; with bronze angels by Giovanni da Bo- 
DayS and logna; with mosaics by Cimabue, and frescoes by other 
Ways old masters. There are some pictures here by Andrea 
del Sarto, especially his St. Agnes, and his altar-pieces 
and choir-pieces, that are not surpassed by anything we 
saw at Rome or Florence, and that is saying a good deal. 
His St. Agnes, especially, is a beautiful and touching 
picture, and thrills you unawares, as one does not expect 
to see such a masterpiece in Pisa. So there is another 
painting (I have forgotten by whom) that represents the 
Deity borne aloft by a flock of flying angels, with wings 
like swallows' tails. The design is unique, but the draw- 
ing and coloring excellent. In the nave is a large 
bronze lamp suspended from the lofty ceiling, and con- 
stantly swaying to and fro, very old and very beautiful, 
and its swaying is said to have first suggested to Galileo 
the idea of the pendulum, and so of the revolution of 
the earth. The good fathers were going to burn him for 
this, and he had to retract or die. But still he muttered 
through his set teeth, "And yet it moves — it moves !" 
and so all the world now proclaims. The whole interior 
is supported by sixty-eight ancient Greek and Roman 
columns, all very beautiful, captured by the Pisans in 
war with the Turks — marble, alabaster, and porphyry; 
and what a history they must have! Once, no doubt, 
they were the ornament and the prop of heathen tem- 
ples; but here the support of a Christian Church! 

The baptistery is quite near the cathedral, and is also 
a beautiful edifice, entirely of marble. It was begun in 
1 1 53, but not completed until 1278 — over a century in 
building — and is admirably preserved. It is a circular 
structure, one hundred feet in diameter, surrounded by 

106 



half-columns below and a gallery of smaller columns Pisa — 
above, and covered with a conical dome one hundred Baptistery 
and ninety feet high. The main entrance is elaborately 
adorned with columns, with symbolic representations of 
the Months to the left and other sculptures to the right, 
with a Byzantine relief above, and, still higher up, with 
a Madonna by Giovanni Pisano. Inside, in the center, 
is a massive octagonal marble font, very old, and near 
it the famous hexagonal pulpit by Niccolo Pisano, 1260, 
supported by seven columns. The reliefs on this are 
very beautiful, and consist of the Annunciation and Na- 
tivity, the Adoration of the Magi, the Presentation in 
the Temple, the Crucifixion, and the Last Judgment. In 
the spandrels are the prophets and the evangelists; above 
the columns, the Virtues. All this work is most skillful 
and exquisite, and the whole baptistery indeed is a gem 
of art. 

In addition to all this, this fine old baptistery has a 
magnificent echo, not surpassed in Europe. The attend- 
ant startled us by placing his hand to his mouth and 
shouting aloft. Presently the echo came back, not as 
a single voice, but rather as a choir of voices or a band 
of musical instruments, and it was hard to make one 
believe that he did not have confederates concealed 
somewhere up in the lofty galleries. Then I tried it 
myself, and others of our party. We shouted "George 
Washington," "Abraham Lincoln," "William McKin- 
ley," and other names, and they came reverberating 
back to us in waves of musical sound. Then we sang a 
verse or two of "America," and "Home, Sweet Home," 
and ended with the "Doxology." I shall never forget 
the delightful hour we spent in that charming old bap- 

107 



European tistery at Pisa. We were the only persons there that 
Days and superb July morning, and had the "echo" all to our- 
WayS selves. 

Just in front of the Duomo, and but a hundred yards 
or so away to the east, stands the campanile, or cele- 
brated leaning tower of Pisa. This, too, is old, having 

been begun in 1174 and com- 
pleted only in 1350, being nearly 
two centuries in building. It is 
one hundred and seventy-nine 
feet high, with eight different 
stories, and is girt about with 
half columns and colonnades. It 
reminds one somewhat of Gi- 
otto's campanile at Florence, 
but, of course, is inferior and 
older. This also is a very beau- 
tiful structure, but thirteen feet 
out of the perpendicular; and the 
query is, What caused this "lean- 
ing?" As you walk around it, it 
really seems dangerous, as if 
liable to topple over any minute; 
but it has stood there nearly six 
The Leaning nun dred years now, and it seems good for another six 
hundred years, or longer. It is strange that no records 
exist explaining why it so leans. Some think it was 
built so, as a marvel in architecture; others, that the 
ground sank on the south side while building, and this 
carried the tower over a little. The latter does not seem 
credible, as the sinking would likely continue and carry 
the tower down with it long before now. But it was 

108 




likely built so, as two others were at Bologna, erected Pisa — 
about the same time, though less out of the perpendic- Campanile 
ular — one four feet, the other ten feet. This view is 
further strengthened by the fact that this Pisa campanile 
contains a chime of seven bells near its summit, the 
heaviest one alone weighing over six tons; and it would 
seem that the daily ringing and swinging of these huge 
bells would soon be destructive to the tower, were it not 
purposely built to be solid and substantial, though "lean- 
ing." I had read about this "leaning tower of Pisa," 
and seen pictures of it, since I was a schoolboy, and 
could hardly realize that here I was walking about it, 
and comprehending its peculiarity better than ever be- 
fore. It is ascended by nearly three hundred steps, and 
the view from the top is said to be fine. But we left that 
for others. 

A little farther away, to the north of the Duomo, 
stands the celebrated Camp Santo or old Cemetery of 
Pisa. This was founded about the year 1200, and con- 
sists of a plot of ground about five hundred feet long by 
two hundred feet wide — said to be after the dimensions 
of Noah's Ark — surrounded by a marble arcade in the 
Tuscan-Gothic style, adorned with figures and reliefs. 
Inside are fifty-three shiploads of earth brought hither 
from Mount Calvary in old times, in order that Pisa's 
dead might repose in holy ground. And they have been 
buried here, over and over again, until the whole place is 
one vast charnel-house. Under the arcades the great 
and distinguished have their graves, in vaults around the 
walls or beneath the marble pavements, and mortuary 
statuary everywhere abounds, good, bad, and indifferent. 
Three little chapels adjoin the spacious cloister, not of 

109 



European much account. But its walls are elaborately frescoed 
Days and with pictures that even Michael Angelo did not disdain 
ways to imitate. In one place are the Crucifixion, the Resur- 
rection, Doubting Thomas, and the Ascension — all well 
done. In another, a long series of pictures representing 
the Triumph of Death, the Last Judgment, and Life in 
Heaven and Hell, with contests of angels and devils for 
the souls of the deceased; the one ascending up to 
heaven wafted by angelic choirs, the other dragged 
down to hell by all sorts of fiends and demons, and there 
broiled on gridirons or pitchforked back into a fiery lake 
when trying to escape. It was all done five or six hun- 
dred years ago, and those old painters were very realistic, 
interpreting the current theology precisely as it was 
preached. But how pitiful and tragic it all seems in this 
age and time ! 

On another wall is the History of Man, from Genesis 
to Solomon, including the Creation, the Fall of Man, 
Expulsion from Paradise, Cain and Abel, Building of 
the Ark, the Deluge, Noah's Vintage and Drunkenness, 
the Curse of Ham, the Tower of Babel, the history of 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and Aaron, 
David, Solomon, and the Queen of Sheba. Much of 
this is very good, and it is extraordinary it should have 
withstood the ravages of time all these years so well as 
it has. Of course, part is much faded, exposed as it is 
to the weather. But how brilliant and glorious it must 
have been when first executed ! And the first artists of 
Italy did it, we may be sure. 

Here, also, under the arcades, are monuments and 
sculptures, both ancient and modern, of interest and 
value, memorials of distinguished Pisans or their deeds, 

no 



down to recent times. And, besides these, there are PiSd — 
sarcophagi, altars, and tombs, of both Roman and CcHlipO SantO 

Etruscan days, carved beautifully with Bacchantes, 
Centaurs, Psyches, and Cupids, and ancient Roman 
milestones, of rare archaeological value, hardly equaled 
outside of Rome and Naples. In the open spaces roses 
and flowers grow profusely in "the holy ground;" and 
altogether we found this old Campo Santo a very in- 
teresting spot. May its dead sleep sweetly in their 
chosen place ! 

Next we drove to the old church of the Knights 
of the Order of St. Stephen, erected 1565-96 from de- 
signs by Vasari, with its walls hung with gonfalons and 
battleflags in glass cases, captured from the. Turks, with 
ceiling paintings of the great battle of Lepanto, and 
other victories over the Turks by Pisa in the long ago — 
a venerable old church, but not else of much importance 
in it. 

Then to the ancient university, which still has a 
library of over fifty thousand volumes, and is attended 
by over six hundred students. Galileo was once Pro- 
fessor of Mathematics here (1610), and his modest resi- 
dence is still shown you in an old street not far away. 
We drove quietly past it, and lifted our hats in rever- 
ence to his great memory. 

Next we crossed the Arno, by the beautiful new 
Solferino Bridge, to the church of San Maria della 
Spina, or St. Mary of the Thorns, so called because a 
fragment of the veritable "crown of thorns" was once 
here, and may be here still, so they say. It looks like 
a toy church in the distance, but is really a handsome 
little edifice in the French-Gothic style, erected so long 

in 



European ago as 1230 for sailors about to go to sea, and adorned 

Days and with sculptures of a high order by great Pisan artists 

Ways in the city's palmy days. We did not think it much of 

a church till we got there, but were delighted with its 

beauty and delicacy, both outside and inside. 

We left Pisa with real regret. We were not there 
long; only a day and a night. But you can see a good 
deal of Pisa in that time; her "things to do" are so 
close together, not widely separated as so often else- 
where. She gives you the impression of old times, of 
genuine antiquity; not much of the modern about her 
or her ways. And I think we got more for our money 
at Pisa, all things considered, than at any other town 
in Italy, during the same time, except perhaps Verona. 



112 



Chapter VIII 



mmnft 



E arrived at Genoa about 7 P. M., July 2d, Genoa 
after a disagreeable ride from Pisa of about 
one hundred miles, through one hundred 
tunnels, more or less. The railroad skirts 
the shore of the Mediterranean, and the ride ought 
to be very charming. But the mountains crowd down 
to the sea so closely that tunneling was cheaper than 
grading; and hence you see but little of the Mediter- 
ranean as you pass along, except exquisite glimpses 
here and there. These are so beautiful you long to 
see more. But even while you are stretching your 
eyes to see, you plunge into a tunnel, and have only 
coal-smoke and the blackness of darkness again. 

At Spezia we passed the great naval arsenal of Italy, 
a walled town of fifty thousand inhabitants and some 
business, but of no great strength against modern artil- 
lery. There was an Italian in our compartment, ap- 
parently a civil engineer or contractor; a pretty wide- 
awake man. He could speak Spanish, but no Eng- 
lish. But he pointed proudly to Spezia's ancient walls, 
and said, "Spezia, bello ! bello !" I knew but little 
Italian, but answered in the best I knew: "Si, Signor, 
Spezia, bello ! multi bello ! But Admiral Dewey, our 
grande American admiral — Manila Bay — come here, 
with grande artillery — his big guns, bang, bang ! Dyna- 
8 113 



European mite! Smash Spezia all to flinders!" And I whacked 
Days and my two fists together by way of emphasis and panto- 
WayS mime. The Italian, caught on quickly, and laughingly 
replied: "Si, Signor! Si, si, si! Yes, sir! Yes, yes, 
yes !" They have a way of repeating "Yes" and "No" 
in this way, not only in Italy, but all over the Continent. 
The Englishman and American would say "yes" or 
"no," and stop there. But the Italian or Frenchman 
would say, "Yes, yes, yes!" or "No, no, no!" three 

times over or 
more. 

At Genoa we 
found the hotels 
crowded and 
rooms scarce and 
poor. We drove 
to a half dozen 
different hotels 
before we could 
secure even toler- 
able accommoda- 
Between tions. We did not know it until we arrived there, but 
Genoa Genoa was g°i n g to celebrate the eight hundredth an- 
niversary of San Giovanni's Day (St. John's), and the 
city was full to overflowing with strangers and sight- 
seers. They came from near and far, all over that part 
of Italy, and packed Genoa full. The tradition was, 
that during the Crusades, or about that time, Genoa 
purchased the relics of St. John from the Holy Land. 
Subsequently, in a war with Pisa, they were wrested 
from her and carried off to Pisa as a priceless treasure. 
Afterwards, in another war with Pisa, she recovered 

ii4 




them, and brought them home to Genoa with great Genoa — 
pomp and rejoicing, and since then, every one hun- A Festival 
dred years, has celebrated their recovery, and this was 
her eight hundredth anniversary. 

The celebration began next day (Sunday) with elab- 
orate services in all the churches, and then a great pro- 
cession of ecclesiastics, religious societies, etc., with 
the bones of St. John (so alleged) under a gorgeous 
canopy of gilt and silk, borne upon the shoulders of 
four men, wound through the city hour after hour. 
There were archbishops, bishops, priests, and acolytes, 
old and young, but all on foot and bareheaded, ex- 
posed to the pitiless Italian sun, with banners, vest- 
ments, Madonnas, and Christs galore, but no music, 
except loud chanting when they passed the cathedral 
and chief churches. Not a band anywhere. Multitudes 
thronged the sidewalks — men, women, and children — 
in all the principal streets, but the best of order pre- 
vailed. We went with the crowd, first to the old church 
of San Annunziata, quite near our hotel, a fine old 
basilica with a dome, and handsome fluted and inlaid 
marble columns, said to be "the most sumptuous church 
in Genoa," though far from clean; and afterwards to 
the great Cathedral of San Lorenzo, erected in noo 
on the site of an older church, and altered so much 
it now consists of three distinct styles — Romanesque, 
French Gothic, and Renaissance. It is built of alter- 
nate courses of black and white marble, like the Duomo 
at Florence, and richly decorated both inside and out- 
side with sculptures of the twelfth century, with antique 
ornamentation on the entablatures and capitals. In the 
interior are some exquisite Corinthian columns of col- 

115 



European ored marble, that belonged to the original church, and 
DdyS and many handsome frescoes and paintings, with a copy 
Ways of Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper." In one of the 
chapels, in a stone coffin of the thirteenth century, are 
the relics of St. John the Baptist, above referred to; 
and in another place an emerald vessel, "out of which 
the Savior and his disciples are said to have drunk at 
the Last Supper, and in which some drops of Christ's 
blood were caught by Joseph of Arimathea." This was 
captured by the Genoese in iioi, at Csesarea, and 
greatly reverenced, as it deserves to be, if genuine. The 
cathedral was filled with a surging mass of people, and 
the services were solemn and imposing, with magnifi- 
cent music, both vocal and instrumental. But it was 
hot and oppressive, and it did not seem a safe place 
to stay that hot July morning. Outside, the street was 
packed almost as densely as the cathedral, for a block 
or two away, and we were glad to escape to our hotel 
again. 

At night there was a general illumination of Genoa 
and her fine harbor, and this was really the finest thing 
of the kind we ever witnessed. The innumerable street 
lamps, by extra gas-pipes, were ingeniously enlarged 
into great flower-pots. The houses were bright with gas 
and candles, every window seemingly. The churches 
and public buildings were ablaze with lamps and lan- 
terns, from summit to foundation-stone. And out in 
the harbor the vessels were one fairy scene of electric 
lamps and Chinese lanterns, outlining their masts and 
yards, while the flashlights of the warships swept the 
city and sky. We took a carriage and drove for an 
hour or two that evening, and shall never forget the 

116 



wondrous sight. Genoa is built on the side of a moun- Genoa — 
tain overlooking the sea, and hence lends herself well The Bay 
to such an occasion. 

The next day we called on the American consul, 
but found he was absent in America. He was from 
Iowa — and therefore adapted to a seaboard "consulate" 
— and had gone home on a visit to the "wild and woolly 
West." His deputy was also absent — at "breakfast" 
still, though it was then 2 P. M. His deputy, or clerk, 
rather a bright-looking young Italian, spoke some 
English; but when pressed with questions about "San 
Giovanni's Day," its history, meaning, etc., could only 
answer, "I am not a paper man !" — meaning, I suppose, 
that he did not know, or was not a "reporter!" — and 
so we had to gain our information elsewhere and other- 
wise, the best we could. As the crowd had left, we 
secured a better hotel, though none too good, and then 
went by electric tram-cars and "funiculares" to the 
Righi, a high mountain overlooking the Bay of Genoa 
and Genoa. The view from here was superb, taking 
in the whole city, harbor, shipping, fortifications, and 
the distant snowcapped Alps, and we "lunched" there 
in a vineclad restaurant on the edge of a lofty cliff, 
beneath the blue and bending Italian sky, while far away 
beneath us, across the bay, we could see the Italian 
warships practicing at a floating target in the distance. 
Doubtless they had learned a lesson from Manila and 
Santiago, and were trying to catch up with Brother 
Jonathan. It will take them a long day. 

Genoa is the metropolis of all Northern Italy, and 
a stirring city of two hundred thousand people. She 
was a great sea-power in her day, as evidenced by her 

117 



European wharves, forts, and palaces, and gives signs of again 
Days and waking up. Though on the side of an abrupt moun- 
WayS tain, there are many fine streets, substantially paved, 
with some narrow and steep ones also — mere rocky 
alleys — and electric tram-cars everywhere, with over- 
head wires. Her buildings, both public and private, 
are of a high order, surpassing those of most Italian 
cities, and her situation well entitles her to the surname 
of "La Superba." Her old marble palaces are now, 

many of them, 
either warehouses, 
or stores, or of- 
fices or schools; 
but there is a pic- 
turesque and ro- 
mantic beauty 
about her quite 
her own. It is 
said fifteen thou- 
sand vessels now 
enter her harbor 
The Palms arm ually, of which one-third are steam, with lines to 
all parts of the world, and she seemed prosperous and 
enterprising beyond all other Italian cities we had seen, 
except Naples. Here in Genoa we saw the first new 
church (Roman Catholic) being erected in all Italy so 
far. It was a stately and handsome edifice in one of 
her new and growing suburbs, and that fact speaks for 
itself. 

The next day was July 4th. But we had no "Glorious 
Fourth" there. There were but few Americans in Genoa 
then, and they told us at our consulate that no arrange- 

118 




ments had been made to celebrate the day. Indeed, Genoa — 
we saw but two American flags afloat in all Genoa that ColumbUS 
day; one over the United States consulate, of course, 
and the other in an obscure street not ten feet wide, 
from the window of a humble dwelling, evidently some 
poor Italian's, who had been over to America and 
learned to love our "Glorious Fourth," and had not 
forgotten it that day. We began the day by going 
to the fine monument to Christopher Columbus, as 
the next best thing. This is of marble, embosomed in 
palm-trees, in the center of a spacious square, in front 
of the chief railway station, with ships' prows around 
the pedestal. At the feet of his colossal statue, which 
leans on an anchor, kneels the figure of America, with 
surrounding allegorical figures of Religion, Science, 
Strength, and Wisdom. Between are reliefs from the 
history of Columbus. We lifted our hats and saluted 
him, and recited such parts of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence as we could remember, and then quietly sang 
"America" and the "Doxology," all by ourselves; and 
then went sight-seeing for the rest of the day. In the 
forenoon we took the electric-cars and rode out to 
Genoa's Campo Santo — a great rural modern cemetery, 
one of the sights of Italy — abounding in monuments 
and tombs on the most elaborate scale. Some of these 
are real works of art, and show that Italians still know 
how to use the chisel, though many, of course, are poor 
and trivial. In the fine mortuary chapel there, where 
there are funeral services every day and almost every 
hour, we attended a typical funeral service, with priests, 
mourners, and requiem, and afterwards strolled about 
the tombs and grounds, and took the cars back to Genoa 

119 



European again. In the afternoon we took another tram-car ride 
Days and to Nervi, some ten or twelve miles through the suburbs 
Ways and down along the bay, with the Mediterannean break- 
ing at our feet; much as if there was an electric road 
from Seabright to Manasquan, N. J., not inland, but 
close along the sea. Olive orchards, orange and lemon 
groves, and exquisite roses and flowers everywhere 
abounded, and the whole ride down and back seemed 
like Paradise Regained. I do n't wonder Italians love 
Italy. It has a thousand things to make it lovable. 
But few more so than this glorious ride to Nervi. 

On this day, also, we visited the Palazzo Pallavicini, 
and other noble palaces and galleries, with some superb 
paintings, statues, and tapestries, and also saw the 
famous "Columbus Egg," or the egg Columbus is re- 
ported to have used, when replying to some jealous 
geographers of his day, that the discovery of America 
was not so much of an achievement after all — "anybody 
could sail west." "Here," said Columbus, "take this 
egg and make it stand on end;" and nobody could do 
it. But he took the egg, and tapped it on the table, 
and then, of course, it stood. "O," said they, "anybody 
could do that!" "Yes," replied the great discoverer, 
"when somebody has shown you how !" How the egg- 
shell survived, I do n't pretend to know. But here 
was a veritable eggshell, pretty good-sized, encircled 
with bands of gold, and held in high esteem and rev- 
erence. 

In many of the old palaces there are extensive 
courtyards, with fountains and grottoes, and one marvels 
at the number and beauty of these. It seems to have 
been a "fad" in old Genoa to have a grotto in the back 

1 20 



yard, with fountains, and flowers, and ferns, and a marble Genoa — 
statue or two, and many of these are very charming The PoliGC 
still. We were exploring one of these courtyards — 
its old palace now banking and insurance offices — and 
admiring its exquisite ferns and flowers and marble 
statuary, when, wanting some information about it, I 
approached two well-dressed gentlemen, and inquired, 
"Do you speak English?" One of them, smiling and 
bowing, replied, "A little; I am an Italian." But the 
other answered bluffly : "I do ! I am an Englishman !" 
And I said, "I am an American!" "Well," responded 
John Bull, "that 's the next best thing to being an 
Englishman!" "No," I replied; "it is the same thing, 
or rather a second edition, enlarged and improved! I 
beg pardon, but this is our Fourth of July!". We shook 
hands all around, and laughed heartily; and so we 
parted^good friends, after all. But better friends be- 
cause of Manila and Santiago ! 

We were struck by the police of Genoa as something 
local and peculiar. They are a fine body of men, natty 
and well-set-up for Italians. But, with high silk hats, 
black broadcloth clothes, white gloves, and old-fash- 
ioned tasseled canes, they look like old sixteenth or 
seventeenth century beaus, rather than nineteenth or 
twentieth century guardians of the peace, and would 
be "guyed" unmercifully in New York or Chicago. 
But, all the same, they know how to "keep the peace" 
and preserve law and order in Genoa, and that is their 
chief office, after all. So all the Genoese horses wear 
a Greek cross on their bridles. Why, or for what pur- 
pose, I could not ascertain; but it seemed to be a uni- 
versal custom, especially upon their work-horses. Some 

121 



European of these crosses are very elaborate and beautiful, and 

Days and handsomely burnished; but nearly all work-horses in 

Ways Genoa wear them, and their drivers seem inordinately 

proud of them, and we did not notice the like elsewhere 

in Italy. And so good-bye to "Genoa the Superb!" 

She well deserves the name. 



122 




Chapter IX 

E left Genoa, as we entered it, through long Lombardy 
mountain tunnels, that were hot and suf- 
focating, July 5th. But we soon passed 
out of the mountains, and got down into 
the plains of Lombardy; and thence to Milan the country 
was almost as level as an American prairie. We soon 
struck the Po, and continued down its lovely valley 
nearly to Milan. The whole country is intersected with 
irrigating canals, that take the water out of the rivers 
and streams and conduct it gently over the land, and 
make it wonderfully fertile. There are few finer crops 
anywhere than are grown in Lombardy, and the whole 
region seems like one vast garden. Wheat, rye, oats, 
flax, and grass are produced in great abundance, while 
vast vineyards — the vines festooned on long rows of 
trees — are in evidence, as everywhere in Italy. Here, 
also we struck the real home of the "Lombardy poplar." 
These poplars are planted along all the roads and 
streams, and in the distance seem like long columns 
of tall grenadiers marching across the vast plains. Mul- 
berries for silkworms are also planted along all the 
division-lines and irrigating ditches, and every precau- 
tion taken to prevent evaporation and keep the ground 
moist and productive. At Milan we spent only a 
single day, visiting its noble Duomo and arcades, 

123 



European and shall speak further of it on our return from 

Days and Venice. 

Ways The next day (July 6th) we proceeded to Verona, 
the home of Romeo and Juliet, and found it to be a 
considerable town still (over sixty thousand inhabitants), 
though only the shadow of its former greatness. It 
stands on the Adige, and, with Peschiera, Mantua, and 
Legnago, made up the famous "Quadrilateral," that 
was formerly the mainstay of Austrian rule in Italy. 
The battles of Magenta and Solferino (1859), not far 
from Verona, ended all this, and Italy came to her own 
again, thanks to Napoleon III and Victor Emmanuel. 
But the old fortifications are still maintained and look 
quite formidable, with their walls and ditches, both wet 
and dry, and permanent garrison of six thousand sol- 
diers. Its ancient walls, from old Roman days, still 
stand in part, and Verona was then quite surrounded 
by water. We were halted at the old city gates, and 
our baggage examined by the "octroi" officers, for the 
first time in Italy; but they found nothing suspicious, 
except an American "kodak" we carried everywhere 
and took "snapshots" with. But they soon chalked 
this "O. K." and passed us in. We stopped at the Hotel 
Colomba d'Oro, on the Via Colomba, which, being 
interpreted, means the "Golden Dove Hotel" on "Dove 
Street" — an excellent place, with clean rooms and a 
good table, kept by an English boniface. We were 
about the only guests there then; but in winter Verona 
and this hotel are crowded with foreigners, so they 
said. A wonderful old grapevine grew up the side of 
the house, and covered the whole wall nearly, and it 
may have been planted there in Romeo's time. 

124 



From the Colomba d'Oro we explored the classic Verona 
old town, and were charmed with its old churches, pal- 
aces, and tombs. Many of these date back to the twelfth 
and thirteenth centuries, and all give the impression of 
age and antiquity. The Palazzo del Consiglio, or old 
town hall, is one of the best buildings in Northern 
Italy of the early Renaissance style, and is adorned 
with some fine bronze statues representing the An- 
nunciation and of celebrated ancient and modern 
Veronese. The old cathedral is of the twelfth century, 
and seems very antique. In its handsome portal, be- 
hind its columns and griffins, are Roland and Oliver, 
the paladins of Charlemagne, in half-relief, executed so 
long ago as 1135. To the left of its facade are old 
Romanesque cloisters, the arches resting on double 
columns of red marble. They contain an antique Roman 
column, considerably mutilated, and ancient Roman 
mosaic pavements, recently discovered, several feet un- 
derground, very beautiful, and in excellent preserva- 
tion. They keep these carefully covered over with saw- 
dust, to exclude the light and air; but sweep the saw- 
dust away, and exhibit them for a fee. The old churches 
of San Zeno and of San Anastasia are also very inter- 
esting, and are fine examples of Lombardic architecture 
of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. They are both 
built of alternate strips of red and white brick, or of 
red and white marble, the latter abounding in quarries 
near Verona, both colors occuring in the same quarry 
and sometimes in the same block. On their walls and 
vaulted roofs are many fine frescoes, ranging from the 
thirteenth to the fifteenth century, and they also con- 
tain many finely sculptured tombs of the same period, 

125 



European with noble effigies and reliefs of saints and sacred 

Days and subjects. 

Ways The old architecture of Verona, indeed, is very no- 
ticeable. It passed through the Lombard, Florentine, 
and Venetian stages, and was influenced by them all, 
though retaining a style somewhat of its own. It owes 
very much to the genius of Fra Giocondo, a native of 
Verona (1435-1514), who was bred a friar, but subse- 
quently rose to great celebrity as an architect, and de- 
signed many handsome buildings, not only in Verona, 
but in Venice, Rome, and even France. 

Near the center of Verona, adjoining the old Lom- 
bardic Church of San Maria Antica, are the imposing 
tombs of the Scaligers, "the stern Gothic forms of which 
immortalize the masculine genius of their dynasty." 
They were princes of Verona, and ruled her destinies for 
over a century (1 260-1 375), and here are their monu- 
ments — some equestrian, some simple statues, others 
under canopies, others massive sarcophagi. They oc- 
cupy a little square by themselves, and their family 
crest, a ladder (ambition, climbing upwards-, "getting 
there"), appears everywhere on the iron railings sur- 
rounding it. This iron work is most elaborate and 
artistic, is a fine example of what Verona could do in 
metals in her best days, and is altogether one of the 
most interesting things we saw in Verona. 

Of course, we went to the palace and tomb of "all 
the Capulets." Not very much of a "palace," — about 
what we would call a good city house, as many of the 
Italian palaces really are. 

Next we went to the house of Juliet, and saw the 
balcony from which she threw her sighs and kisses down 

126 



to Romeo, and afterwards visited her neglected grave. Verona 
You have to pay a fee to see this (in a back street and 
an obscure quarter of the town), and everybody is ex- 
pected to leave his carte de visite there, and we left ours 
with hundreds of others heaped upon her poetic tomb. 
Not a very nice tribute to pay her. But it is "the custom 
of Verona." 

We had a late dinner that day, and after it was over 
strolled down to the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, in the 
heart of Verona, to sip our coffee and hear the band 
play. It played well, as all Italian bands do, and the 
whole city seemed assembled there. But soon an im- 
pending thunder-shower, with real Italian thunder and 
lightning, sent us back to our Golden Dove Hotel. 
We retired early, but along about midnight were awak- 
ened by some fine tenor voices singing magnificently 
as their owners passed along the street. These were 
succeeded by speeches and applause in a neighboring 
cafe. And then a little pandemonium broke loose on 
the street, and sleep vanished till nearly morning. What 
it was all about we failed to discover. But there was 
a good chance for the Verona police to demonstrate 
its usefulness. 

The next morning was cool and delightful. After 
breakfast we walked down to the old Roman Amphi- 
theater, or Arena, and walked all around it. It was 
erected about the year 300, under Diocletian, and is 
still in a good state of preservation. It is an enormous 
structure of brick and stone, after the Colosseum at 
Rome — five hundred and four feet long, by four hun- 
dred and two wide, and three hundred and eighteen high 
■ — and was capable of seating over thirty thousand spec- 

127 



European tators in its day. Subsequently it was used as a stone 
Days and quarry, and carved blocks of it appear in many of the 
Ways Veronese churches and palaces to-day. Napoleon re- 
stored it, but it is again falling into decay, and its great 
corridors and vast vomitories are now used only as 
coal and wood, lime, and lumber yards. Just to think 
of it — here where Roman soldiers and consuls, priests 
and priestesses, once officiated ! "To such base uses 
are we come at last !" Its massive proportions are 
not realized until you walk around and through it, it 
is so symmetrical; and then you think what a great 
people those old Romans must have been, to erect such 
a colossal building for pleasure purposes merely. 

Next we went to the Piazza Erbe, the ancient forum, 
but now in use as a fruit and vegetable market, and 
one of the most picturesque squares in all Italy. A 
marble column here bears the lion of St. Mark, a modern 
copy of the ancient lion of the Republic at Venice. The 
antique fountain is adorned with a statue of "Verona." 
In the center of the piazza is the Tribuna, under a can- 
opy supported by four columns, anciently the seat of 
judgment. The surrounding houses are decorated on 
their street fronts with frescoes of the Coronation of 
the Virgin, Adam and Eve, Madonna and Saints; and 
are fine examples of what we saw occasionally else- 
where in Italy, but no modern examples thereof except 
a few new houses in Genoa. Evidently, in old times, 
they frescoed the street-fronts of their palaces and 
houses very beautifully, and even great artists did not 
disdain to lend their brushes to this work. How gor- 
geous their streets must have appeared, in comparison 
with our modern plainness ! 

128 



We took a final stroll along the banks of the Adige, Verona 
to look at the old mediaeval water and grist mills there, 
with undershot wheels; and then took the train for 
Venice. We liked Verona very much, and regretted 
we could not stay longer. But, as a whole, she im- 
presses you as a dead city, or as only the ghost of de- 
parted grandeur. I think one 
gets this impression more in 
Verona than any place we saw 
in Italy, except perhaps Pisa. 
Indeed, Verona and Pisa are 
very much alike in this respect, 
and that is one reason why they 
seemed so admirable and enjoy- 
able. There is nothing of this 
work-a-day life and world about 
them, but only the aroma of age 
and antiquity. 

In its day, two thousand 
years ago, Verona was the home 
of Pliny, Catullus, Cornelius 
Nepos, and other celebrated Ro- 
mans. It was an old Roman 
colony, and of commanding mili- 
tary importance, because of its nexus of roads, leading 
practically everywhere. Afterwards it was the home of 
great soldiers and statesmen, the Scaligers and others, 
and of Paul Veronese and his great school of painters, 
and of other artists and architects innumerable. But 
to-day Verona is only the ghost of things, with no future 
before her except to doze and dream. 

It is only a short ride from Verona to Padua — some 
9 129 




The Church 

of St. An- 

T H O N Y, 

Padua 



European fifty miles or so — over half way from Verona to Venice. 
Days and Padua was once one of the largest and richest cities in 
Ways Italy, and is still a place of fifty thousand inhabitants, 
though much decadent. It abounds in old palaces and 
old arcades, especially in the heart of the city, many 
of them very interesting and beautiful. The Church 
of St. Anthony of Padua, an associate of St. Francis 
of Assisi, is a huge edifice, with six lofty domes, after 
both the Byzantine and Gothic orders, suggesting St. 

Mark's at Venice, 
but can hardly be 
called handsome, 
though ambitious 
and impressive. It 
dates back to 
1 23 1, when Padua 
was in its palmy 
days, and contains 
some superb 
Sculptures and 
paintings by 
Donatello and others. St. Anthony, the patron saint of 
Padua, lies buried here, and his superb tomb is much 
visited and reverenced. 

In the Scuola del Santo, the Arena Chapel, on the 
site of an old Roman amphitheater, and the Municipal 
Gallery are many handsome frescoes, sculptures, and 
bronzes, by Titian, Giotto, Romanio, Donatello, Andrea 
Mantegna, and other great masters. Indeed, the whole 
of the exquisite Arena Chapel is said to have been 
painted by Giotto, who spent several of his busy 
years here, and dowered Padua with his genius and 

130 




Market 

Square, 

Padua 



art. The cathedral does not impress one so much, Padllfl 
though old (about 1550); but the Piazza Vittorio 
Emanuele, with its double row of illustrious Italians, 
including- Petrarch, Galileo, Tasso, Ariosto, Livy, and 
others (mostly Paduans), over eighty in all, more or 
less good, is spacious and attractive, and speaks well 
for modern Italy. In the center of the city, between 
the old Market Squares of the Fruits and the Herbs, 
stands the stately old Hall of Justice, now called II Sa- 
lone, dating back 
to 1 1 72, and justly 
celebrated for its 
vaulted wooden 
ceiling — two hun- 
dred and seventy- 
three feet long, 
ninety feet wide, 
and two hundred 
and thirty-four 
feet high. Its 
spacious walls are 
adorned by three hundred frescoes, painted by Miretto A Water 
and others, representing the influence of the seasons and P ™^ T ' 
the constellations of mankind. 

Padua has long been noted for its learning and art, 
and its ancient university still numbers about fifteen 
hundred students, though, like the rest of the city, its 
glory has much departed. Indeed, Padua, like Verona, 
seems decadent and decrepit. Its houses are chiefly old 
and dilapidated. Its once busy canals, extending to 
Venice and the sea, are silent; and the whole city gives 
one the impression of a ghost only of former greatness. 

131 




Padua 




Chapter X 

ROM Padua to Venice is only about twenty- 
two miles, and the country is one vast gar- 
den and vineyard still, though not so fertile 
and productive as about Milan. You come 
suddenly upon Venice, and soon realize that she is in- 
deed the "Pearl of Italy," and "Queen of the Adriatic." 
Venice is situated, not upon the mainland, but among 
lagoons, some two or three miles from the mainland, 
and you enter it over a long causeway built up from the 
sea. It stands on one hundred and seventeen small 
islands, divided by one hundred and fifty canals, and 
connected by three hundred and seventy-eight bridges. 
The authorities differ as to these figures somewhat, but 
the above seem substantially accurate. It contains about 
fifteen thousand houses and palaces, erected chiefly on 
piles. The islands are so well built over, there is not 
room for more houses; but there are shallow places in 
the lagoons that can be reclaimed and occupied when 
needed. Her early history is involved in obscurity, but 
she seems to have been settled first by refugees from 
the mainland, who then turned pirates. In time she 
gathered wealth and power, and in the fifteenth century, 
the zenith of her glory, Venice numbered over two hun- 
dred thousand inhabitants — which meant more then than 
now — and dominated the trade and commerce of the 

132 



world. She was a kind of a Republic in those great VeniGd 
days — not much like our American Republic, however; 
more of an oligarchy — but is now a part of free and 
united Italy. Venice then possessed three hundred sea- 
going vessels, with eight thousand sailors; three hundred 
smaller craft, with seventeen thousand men; and a fleet 
of war galleys, manned by eleven thousand men; and 
maintained the naval and commercial supremacy of the 
Mediterranean, and so of the whole civilized world. Her 
annual exports were then reckoned at 10,000,000 ducats, 
of which 4,000,000 were said to be clear profit. She did 
the great carrying trade for the Crusades, to and from 
Palestine, and amassed vast sums from this pious busi- 
ness, and for centuries controlled the trade of the Indies, 
and so of the Orient via the Red Sea. But the discovery 
of the all-sea route to India via the Cape of Good Hope 
(1497) transferred the India trade to Portugal and Spain, 
and soon afterwards Venice began to decline, and kept 
this up until a century ago, when her population had 
dwindled one-half. But with the opening of the Suez 
Canal, a quarter of a century or so ago, Venice revived, 
and now again has about one hundred and seventy-five 
thousand people, her suburbs included. She has lines 
of steamers to Athens, Constantinople, Palestine, Alex- , 
andria, Tunis, and the Mediterranean generally, and is 
again a growing city, though less so than Naples and 
Genoa apparently. 

Arriving at Venice, you leave the railroad at the sta- 
tion, and take a gondola or a "pocket edition" of a 
steamboat thence down town. Of course, there are no 
cabs, or omnibuses, or street-cars, because there are no 
streets in Venice, only canals and little byways or lanes, 

133 



European by courtesy called streets; no horses, or mules, or don- 
DflyS and keys, or vehicles of any kind, only gondolas and "barks'' 
Ways or boats. How the natural trade and commerce of a 
large city like Venice, and its necessary travel and traffic, 
are carried on in this way is surprising. But the gon- 
dolas and boats are numerous, and they dart about in all 
sorts of ways and places, with a dexterity and speed 
amazing to one not a Venetian. There are public gon- 
dolas, of course, for hire everywhere. But many private 
houses and palaces also have their own gondolas, often 
shapely and beautiful, but all of the same color — black, 
as prescribed by law. Instead of alley-ways, as in other 
cities, they have gondola-ways between and underneath 
their residences, and doorways from their houses to 
these, from which they can step directly into their gon- 
dolas and be rowed away or return. The canals are of 
all widths and sizes, from the Grand Canal — one hun- 
dred feet wide and two miles long — to others eight or 
ten feet wide only, or less, merely wide enough for a 
gondola to slip through. Many are too narrow for two 
gondolas to pass, and the gondoliers have to shout from 
one bend or corner to another, to give warning to others 
coming their way. The ocean-tide ebbs and flows in 
these canals, and their depths vary from three feet to a 
fathom or so. Without the tide to cleanse them daily 
these tiny Venetian canals would soon become pesti- 
lential, and, as it is, many of them are foul and ill-smell- 
ing. They are the open sewers and public baths of 
Venice, and often, as you row along, you may see a flock 
of boys in swimming, the younger ones tied by a rope 
to the doorposts, as a precaution against drowning, 
though it is hard to drown a Venetian. 

134 



The houses and palaces, as a rule, rise directly out 
of the sea, with their front steps leading down into the 
water, though some have narrow footwalks. Back of the 
houses, and extending by bridges of all sorts from island 
to island, is a perfect labyrinth of little lanes or byways, 
yclept streets, paved with stone blocks or asphalt, with- 
out sidewalks, of course, but alive with picturesque and 
romantic shops and throngs, men and women every- 
where carrying burdens on their heads or backs that 
would elsewhere 
be borne or drawn 
by horses or don- 
keys. One must 
go to Venice, if he 
would know what 
human beings are 
capable of endur- 
ing in this way. 

As we were in 
Venice we de- 
cided to do as 
Venice does. So we called a gondola, and were rowed 
down the Grand Canal to the Grand Hotel, over a mile 
or more, and taking three-quarters of an hour. The 
Grand Canal is much the shape of the letter "S," and is 
lined throughout with handsome houses and stately pal- 
aces, chiefly of marble and brick, the ancient houses of 
the Venetian nobles and merchant princes. Many of 
these are now devoted to public offices- and private 
business; but many also stand vacant, their owners dead 
or impoverished, and their noble families "run out." 
Many of these edifices are noble and artistic, rich with 

135 



VeniGe — 

Canals 

Palaces 




Grand 
Canal 
and DEL 
Salute, 
Venice. 



European carving and sculpture, and few lack beauty and excel- 
Days and lence of some sort. It is the old Italian taste and skill 
Ways over again; only Venice seems to have improved upon 
the Italian nature. Her police were everywhere, and 
arrayed in the same seventeenth-century fashion as those 
at Genoa, with high hats, white gloves, canes, etc. But 
they maintained "law and order" in Venice, and what 
else are policemen for, anyhow? 

At the Grand Hotel we secured good rooms, and 
found Trenton friends there to welcome us. A large 
majority of the guests were Americans, like ourselves 
bent on sight-seeing. Many were schoolteachers and 
college professors; some were ministers; and the Amer- 
ican girl was everywhere in evidence. In the evening, 
when we sat down to the long table d'hote, the few gen- 
tlemen present seemed swallowed up by the many ladies. 
Of course, everybody went everywhere in a gondola, 
for the romance of the thing; or, if you threaded the little 
streets on foot in the daytime, sightseeing or shopping, 
the thing to do in the evening was to take a gondola- 
ride on the Grand Canal. It was certainly very delight- 
ful and charming, and our ladies especially never tired 
of this. There was always music afloat in the air from 
some gondola or other, and often illuminations in some 
quarter or other, and gondola life at Venice is certainly 
all poetry and song. The gondoliers row their unique 
and antique boats, standing erect, by a single oar at the 
stern, and seem a hardy race apart by themselves. They 
are stalwart, muscular men, with a dialect of their own, 
and transmit their trade from father to son. Formerly 
they did a thriving business, because of the numerous 
travelers at Venice; but they complain bitterly of the 

136 



little steamboats now on the Grand Canal as reducing Venice — 
gondola traffic and cutting prices, and they would dearly Gondolas 
like to go back to the old times again. It does seem EtG. 
an anachronism to see modern steamboats puffing along 
the Grand Canal, under the Rialto, by old St. Mark's, 
the Doges' Palace, and the Bridge of Sighs. But, all 
the same, the steamboats are there to stay as "the sur- 
vival of the fittest," and Venetian gondolas will soon 
become as extinct as Roman triremes or Indian war- 
canoes. To save them, or to delay their fate a little, a 
recent inventor proposes to attach electric motors to 
them. But then they would cease to be Venetian gon- 
dolas ! 

It was hot and sultry at Venice in the mornings. But 
in the afternoons we had a sea breeze always, and the 
evenings were cool and delightful. We went every- 
where with umbrellas or under gondola awnings, and 
once in the churches and galleries found no discomfort 
from the heat, their walls are so thick and massive. 
Heavy padded leather curtains at all the doors kept out 
the heat and glare, and a cap and a wrap even were not 
unwelcome usually, when once inside. 

The great Church of Venice is old St. Mark's, or San 
Marco, as they call it there. St. Mark is the patron saint 
of Venice, and his bones are said to have been bought 
by a great Venetian merchant, and brought there from 
Alexandria about A. D. 829. St. Mark's itself was built 
the following year, as a Romanesque brick basilica, but 
was burned down (as seems to have been the fate of so 
many of the ancient churches — they must have had poor 
fire engines and no fire departments in those old days), 
and was rebuilt in the eleventh and twelfth centuries in 

137 



European the Byzantine style, and decorated with Oriental mag- 
DayS and nificence by Greek and Arabian artists. It is now in the 
Ways form of a Greek cross, with Byzantine domes in the cen- 
ter and at the ends of the arms, and is about two hun- 
dred and fifty feet long by one hundred and sixty-eight 
feet wide. Externally and internally it is adorned with 
over five hundred columns, of exquisite design and work- 
manship. Its interior is richly decorated with gilding, 
bronze, and mosaics, the latter alone covering nearly 
fifty thousand square feet. Its columns are marble, ala- 
baster, porphyry, and verde antique, from ancient 
heathen temples, brought from Greece, Constantinople, 
Syria, and Egypt, many consisting of a single block of 
priceless value — matchless elsewhere. How beautiful 
and exquisite these all are ! Its color scheme is iri- 
descent glass, transparent alabaster, polished marble, 
and burnished gold, artistic and beautiful beyond con- 
ception. Over its main entrance are the famous four 
gilded bronze horses, said to be the finest of ancient 
bronzes, and the only surviving specimen of an ancient 
quadriga. They are likely of old Greek origin, and were 
stolen by Nero and placed over his arch at Rome. After- 
wards they were placed over the Arch of Trajan there. 
The Emperor Constantine robbed Rome of them, and 
took them to Constantinople. The Doge Dandolo, 
when he captured Constantinople, brought them to 
Venice, A. D. 1204. In 1797, Napoleon I robbed Venice 
of them, and took them to Paris; but when Napoleon 
went down, in 181 5, they were sent back to Venice. 
What a history they have had, and what a tale they could 
unfold, if they could only speak ! They are exquisite 
and beautiful beyond description, and have been the 

138 



wonder and the despair of sculptors for twenty centuries Veita — 
or more. The general effect of St. Mark's is that of age St. Mark's 
and the Orient. The touch of the East is everywhere 
about it. Its marble floor is uneven and contorted, some 
of the piles on which it rests having sunk more than 
others. But the old cathedral itself seems as solid as a 
mountain and as beautiful as heaven. 

On the Sunday morning we were at St. Mark's it 
was thronged with worshipers, more or less devout, and 
the music was superb and glorious. The same day, 
later, we attended the Protestant service of the Scotch 
Presbyterian Church — the only Protestant Church then 
open — and found thirty-four persons present by actual 
count, though the sermon was exceptionally good and 
helpful. This "church," so called, was in a back room 
of moderate size, on the third floor of an ordinary house, 
in an obscure street; and how could Protestantism hope 
to succeed in such a "church," with Venice full of spa- 
cious and beautiful Roman Catholic churches and ca- 
thedrals? There was nothing in it to touch the intellect 
or fancy, the heart or soul, of a true Italian, and, in point 
of fact, I do n't think there were a half dozen Italians 
present in the little congregation, if so many. The rest 
were English and American tourists, chiefly the latter. 

The Piazza or Place of St. Mark's is a huge, open- 
air square, in front of the church, its other three sides. 
inclosed by imposing edifices, which look like one vast 
marble palace bleached by time and weather. It is about 
two hundred yards long by one hundred yards wide, 
and is the heart of Venice and its ancient glory. The 
evenings we were there it was thronged with thousands 
of both men and women, who came to sip their coffee, 

139 



European and smoke, at the little tables placed everywhere there, 
Days and and to enjoy the superb music of the Military Band; and 
Ways really there is no more enchanting or fascinating spot 
in all Italy. By day a large flock of pigeons enliven it, 
who roost and make their multitudinous nests in the 
nooks and crannies of the surrounding buildings, partic- 
ularly St. Mark's and the Doges' Palace. For centuries 
these were fed daily, at the public expense of the city. 
But now they are dependent on citizens and travelers. 

Nobody thinks of 
molesting them 
or scaring them 
away; but scatter 
grain to them, and 
they will cluster 
about you, and 
perch upon your 
arms and shoul- 
ders, and we pho- 
tographed two of 
our party in this 
position, with scores of these doves or pigeons fluttering 
about them. 

Opposite St. Mark's in a corner of the piazza, stands 
the famous Campanile of Venice,* a square tower three 
hundred and twenty-two feet high, founded A. D. 888, 
rebuilt 1329, and now surmounted by an angel of gilded 
bronze sixteen feet high, put up there in 1517. It is 
ascended by a winding inclined plane and broad steps, so 
gentle that Napoleon I distinguished himself by riding 
his horse to the top one day, it is said, when he was at 




St. Mark's, 

Venice. 

Feeding the 

Pigeons. 



* Fell July 14, 1902. 



140 



Venice. Opposite this, near a corner of the piazza, is 
the old clock tower, built 1496 (only four years after Co- 
lumbus discovered America), and in the top of this are 
two giants in bronze, who curiously strike the hours with 
hammers on a great bell, heard all over Venice. 

Near by, in the direction of the Lagune or Grand 
Canal, stand two imposing columns of granite, from 
Constantinople or Syria, one erected A. D. 1180 and 
the other A. D. 1329. One is crowned by the winged 
Lion of St. Mark, 
the historic Lion 
of the Republic; 
the other by St. 
Theodore, the an- 
c i e n t patron of 
the Republic, 
standing on a 
crocodile, typify- 
ing the triumph 
of Christianity 
over Egyptian 
idolatry and heathenism. This used to be the place of 
public executions also, but is now the headquarters of 
the gondoliers — a happy change, truly. 

Directly opposite, fronting on the Lagune and also 
on the piazetta, is the Palace of the Doges, a venerable 
pile, one hundred and fifty-six feet long by one hundred 
and sixty-four feet deep. It was founded A. D. 800, 
and has been destroyed by fire or earthquake no less 
than five times, but re-erected each time in grander style 
than before. Exteriorly it is faced with small slabs of 
colored marble, and it has two arcades, one above the 

141 



VeniGe— 
Campanile 
Doges' 
Pate 




S. Giorgio 
from THE 
TOP OF 

Campanile. 



European other; the upper one, "La Loggia," remarkably rich. 

Days and Both fronts are rich with carvings and statuary, of Adam 
Ways and Eve, of Moses, Solomon, Numa Pompilius, Scipio, 
Trajan, and other historical characters; and the old Ve- 
netian and Florentine artists seem to have spared no 
pains or expense to make this old palace of the Republic 
grand and glorious. Its water-front has been the scene 
of many notable spectacles and pageants. Here Venice 
annually "wedded the sea" with a ring. Here her doges 
were inaugurated. Here her great sea captains departed 
and returned. Here foreign embassies, kings, and em- 
perors were received and entertained. Here her cele- 
brated Council of Ten sat and administered the Repub- 
lic, and adjudicated life and death to its enemies, and 
to Venetians, for long years. What a history the famous 
old palace has really had ! 

You enter the Doges' Palace by the Scala dei Gi- 
ganti, a gigantic marble staircase, with colossal statues 
of Mars and Neptune, the favorite gods of Venice, at the 
top. Once inside, you wander from room to room and 
hall to hall, filled with divine frescoes and paintings by 
Tintoretto, Palma Giovane, Paul Veronese, Titian, Bel- 
lini, and other great masters. Many of these are huge 
battle-pictures by sea and land, illustrating the history 
of Venice, and are well worth a study of years, for their 
costumes, ships, arms, guns, etc. Other galleries are 
filled with antique bronzes and marbles, bewildering in 
extent and exquisite in design and finish; and the beauty 
and the splendor of the gorgeous old palace are a con- 
stant wonder and delight. We wandered through it 
everywhere at will, and afterwards descended into the 
prisons and dungeons underneath the palace, once 

142 



Rialto 



crowded with prisoners of state, and saw the old torture- VeiUGe — 
chamber and place of execution there, and the old Bridge Of 
"Lion's Mouth" into which secret accusations could be Sighs 
put and the accused haled for trial without counsel or 
jury; and also gazed upon the lofty Bridge of Sighs, 
which connects the Doges' Palace across a broad canal 
with the prison for common criminals there. This has 
a romantic interest, indeed, but is neither so beautiful 
nor so lofty as the Rialto, or High Bridge, which is a 
really fine piece of work. The Rialto consists of a single 
white marble arch, one hundred and fifty-eight feet long 
by ninety feet wide, and thirty-two feet high, on twelve 
thousand piles, spanning the Grand Canal and connect- 
ing the east and west quarters of Venice. It was built 
in 1588, and is flanked by rows of shops on either side, 
where you may purchase almost anything produced or 
made upon the earth. Of course, it is for foot-passen- 
gers alone, and is not level, as bridges usually are, but 
has broad and easy marble steps for ascending and de- 
scending, and seems always thronged with people. 

Of course, we went to the Church of Santa Maria 
Formosa; not much of a church, but it contains a gem 
of a painting — St. Barbara and four other saints by 
Palma Vecchio. The "other saints" do not amount to 
a great deal, but St. Barbara herself is grandiose and 
peerless. Her calm and steadfast eyes, her exuberant 
hair, her diadem and robe, her superb neck and throat, 
are all regal and majestic, though thoroughly womanly, 
and there is not a painting of the kind in Italy that im- 
presses one more deeply and chastely. Hard by is the 
Church of St. John and St. Paul, a magnificent edifice, 
second only in Venice to St. Mark's, where the doges 

143 



European were brought for burial and their funeral services per- 
DayS and formed. Near to this, in a little square, is the exquisite 
Ways statue in bronze of Bartolommeo Colleoni, a great gen- 
eral of the Republic, on a handsome marble pedestal, 
of which John Ruskin wrote, "I do not believe there is 
a more glorious work of sculpture existing in the 
world!" Under the fine Venetian sky, it is indeed 
superb, the whole man and horse seeming instinct 
with life and action, like an old Greek centaur. 

Next we went 
to the Church of 
the Frari, and saw 
the elaborate 
monuments of 
Titian and Ca- 
nova — too "elab- 
orate." Then to 
the Church of the 
Jesuits, which is 
veneered or lined 
inside with mar- 
ble inlaid with verde antique — a most tedious and costly 
business — until the whole interior looks like elaborate 
lace-work; very artistic and expensive, but somewhat 
rococo and meretricious. Then to the Scuola di San 
Rocco, which has a magnificent facade and a handsome 
old staircase and halls, and whose walls are adorned ex- 
clusively by Scripture scenes, chiefly by Tintoretto, in 
the highest style of Venetian art. Then to the Church 
of Santa Maria delle Salute, a stately dome-covered 
church, on the Grand Canal, nearly opposite our hotel, 
erected 1631-82 in memory of the great plague of 1630, 

144 




A Typical 
Bridge, 
Venice. 



and decorated largely with pictures by Titian. Some do VeniGG — 
not like delle Salute, but I thought it very noble and Titiflll'S 
impressive. "AsSUIlip- 

Afterwards we went to the Academy of Fine Arts, tlOIl 
which is crowded with , masterpieces by John Bellini, 
Gentile Bellini, Palma Vecchio, and other great Ve- 
netian artists. But its greatest masterpiece, to my mind, 
is Titian's "Assumption of the Virgin," which struck me 
on the whole as the grandest and most glorious paint- 
ing I saw in Italy. It is the Virgin ascending to heaven, 
with upturned face and outstretched arms, with angels 
swarming around her like bees, and saints and apostles 
grouped reverently beneath her, all filled with wonder 
and awe and celestial joy; and the artistic effect of the 
whole, with its marvelous pose, drawing, coloring, and 
expression, must be seen to be appreciated. I have 
seen many photographs and engravings of it, but they 
all fall far short of the glorious original. We stood en- 
tranced and enraptured before it as before no other pic- 
ture in Venice, and, I make bold to say, this "Assump- 
tion" alone is well worth a voyage across the Atlantic, 
if you want to see a great painting. If Titian had 
painted nothing else, this picture alone would have im- 
mortalized him, and entitled him to a passport to Para- 
dise. There is another painting there, by Tintoretto, 
that also impressed us deeply. It is that of a Christian 
slave doomed to torture and death, but miraculously 
saved by St. Mark. He is bound and chained to a stake. 
His persecutors strike at him with clubs and staves, but 
they sliver to atoms. They assault him with hammers 
and battle-axes, but they break and fall to pieces. They 
attack him with daggers and knives, but they fall harm- 
10 145 



European less at his feet. Calm and serene in his Christian faith, 

Days and with St. Mark near by, invisible to his enemies, he faces 

Ways everybody and everything, and triumphs gloriously. It 

is splendid and inspiring, in both drawing and coloring, 

as well as motif, and well worthy of one of the great 

masters of Italy. 

Another day we went to the arsenal, where Venice 
has admirably collected and preserves her army and navy 
antiquities, and where once she employed eighteen thou- 
sand men, though now only two or three thousand. 
Here are models and specimens of arms and ships for a 
thousand years and more — many of them most curious 
and interesting — and her whole military and naval his- 
tory may be studied to advantage. Among other curi- 
ous things here is the model of an ancient revolver much 
like our Colt's, and another of a bicycle five hundred 
years ago, though neither came into actual use. In front 
of the arsenal stand four antique lions, brought to Venice 
from Greece in 1687, and of great antiquity before then, 
famous for their symmetry and beauty, and probably the 
work of Phidias or Praxiteles. 

Beyond the arsenal lies the Public Garden, a pretty 
park of considerable extent, on land obtained by con- 
fiscating and destroying several monasteries in Napo- 
leon's time. Here roses and flowers grow in great 
profusion, and many of the trees are magnificent speci- 
mens of European flora. Beyond this still, a mile or two 
away, across the bay, is the Lido, the Coney Island of 
Venice, with bathing grounds, concert-halls, and many 
popular attractions, but all well regulated and guarded. 
Still beyond this are the great breakwaters of Venice — 
huge walls of stone, with broad steps sloping to the sea, 

146 



but abrupt toward Venice — and they have stood there VeniGG- 

for centuries. Arsenal 

We spent part of an afternoon at the Lido, with LidO 
throngs of people coming and going, and among the rest 
were Don Carlos of Spain, with his wife and great Sibe- 
rian bloodhound, always with him. He was then living 
on the Grand Canal in a house of his own, well-appearing 
but not palatial, not far from our hotel, and went daily 
down to the Lido on one of the little cheap and popular 
steamboats, to enjoy the sea air and see the sights and 
crowds, like any other mortal. And with his big dog 
and little cigarette he seemed very human ! 

Another day we went to the Venetian glass and lace 
factories, for which Venice has long been famous, and 
were much interested in their rare and costly products. 
But these and their products are modern Venice, so to 
speak, and ancient Venice, with her thousand and one 
objects of art and beauty and old historic associations, 
interests one more; and this glamour of art and antiquity 
is never absent for an hour, while you are there. 

Of course, the above are not the only things we saw 
in Venice. But they are the chief and the best. In 
Venice, as a whole, we had no disappointment. But 
rather rare pleasure and enjoyment. Her art and archi- 
tecture, her beauty and magnificence, surpassed our ex- 
pectations, and her old palaces (many of them frescoed 
all over their street fronts by her best artists and not yet 
faded), her queer streets, and quaint ways, were a con- 
stant surprise and delight. Her modern water-colors 
seem highly tinted, and would be elsewhere, and are here 
in certain hours and weather. But there are other days 
and weather when the lights and shades on the Lagunes 

147 



European and sky are all these pictures indicate, and all Venice is 
Days and superb with red and pink and purple and gold. Then 
Ways paradise seems to drop down out of the sky. Then her 
palaces, and churches, and ships, and clouds, and waters 
take on all the wealth of color that these water-colors 
show, and Venice becomes really and truly the Pearl of 
Italy and the Queen of the Adriatic. 

Altogether, Venice has indeed a fascination and a 
charm quite her own, and seems at times like an antique 
gem on a large scale, or like a poet's beatific vision, or 
some Midsummer Night's Dream — weird, mysterious, 
magnificent, and glorious beyond a modern American's 
conception, until he goes there and "sees Venice" for 
himself. Let me advise everybody to go; for old 
Venice, the Venice of the gondola and the gondolier, 
will soon cease to be. 



148 




Chapter XI 

left Venice at 8.45 A. M., July 13th, and Milan — 
arrived at Milan the same day at 2.30 Plains Of 
P. M.— about two hundred miles. At last Lombardy 
we had struck the "Italian summer." It had 
been cool in Southern Italy generally — in Rome too 
cool for June comfort — but in Genoa and Venice we 
had found warm weather, and here in Milan it was hot. 
The mornings and evenings were not so warm; but in 
the middle of the day the sun blazed from an unclouded 
sky, and everybody sought a "siesta." The shops and 
stores even were practically closed, and if you ventured 
inside nobody cared to wait upon you; all were lying 
down or napping. To keep out the heat and glare of 
the sun, they extend their canvas awnings out to the 
curbstones and down to the curbstones, and thus you 
may walk for blocks well-sheltered from the sun. Why 
would not this be a good thing in many of our American 
cities in July and August? 

We liked Milan, however, and thought it the most 
American of all the Italian cities. The Italians surname 
it "La Grande," and it certainly deserves the name. It 
stands on the plains of Lombardy, like Chicago on the 
prairies of Illinois, and is the great industrial and finan- 
cial center of united Italy. There is a magnificent farm- 
ing country all about it, and her people are wide-awake 

149 



European and business-like for Italians. Her streets are not much 
Days and wider or straighter than elsewhere in Italy, but evidences 
Ways of growth and progress appear on all sides. Her street 
pavements are many of them cobble-stones still, much to 
one's surprise; but she is replacing them with brick and 
asphalt, and will soon be "up-to-date" in this respect 
also. She has electric cars everywhere of a high order, 
with a "belt-line" around the city on the site of her an- 
cient walls, which she outgrew and leveled years ago. 

Milan is the capital of Lombardy, is the seat of an 
archbishop, the headquarters of an army corps, and con- 
tains, with its suburbs, about five hundred thousand in- 
habitants. It does a large business in silk and woolen 
goods, gloves, carriages, machinery, and furniture, and 
is developing a school of art in both painting and sculp- 
ture quite its own. Indeed the Milanese artists claim to 
surpass both Rome and Florence nowadays, and their 
claim seems good. 

Of course, she is an old, old place. The Romans had 
a colony here two centuries before Christ, and in after 
centuries she surpassed even Rome in importance at 
times. In the eleventh century she contained three 
hundred thousand inhabitants; but in n 62 was totally 
destroyed by the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. In 
1 1 67 the allied cities of Brescia, Bergamo, Mantua, and 
Verona, taking pity on her people, rebuilt her some- 
what, and again she grew to importance. She is sit- 
uated on the little river Olona, but is connected by a 
network of canals with the Ticino, the Po, the Adda, 
and Lakes Maggiore and Como, as well as by railroads 
with all Italy, Switzerland, Austria, and Germany. 

The great thing at Milan is her peerless Duomo, 
150 



or cathedral, which the Milanese claim is "the eighth Milan — 
wonder of the world." It is not so large as St. Peter's The DllOfflO 
at Rome, nor the cathedral at Seville, but is the third 
largest church in Europe. It is older than the present 
St. Peter's, though not so old, of course, as the orig- 
inal St. Peter's. It was founded in 1386, but not fully 
completed until the present century. It has cost any- 
where from fifty to one hundred millions of dollars, but 
even now the fagade does not suit them, and they have 
recently appropri- 
ated four millions 
of dollars for a 
new facade, and 
given their archi- 
tect forty years to 
do it in. It is a 
huge edifice of 
brick encased 
with white mar- 
ble, four hundred 
and eighty-six 

feet in length by two hundred and eighty-eight feet in d uomo, 
breadth, with a nave one hundred and fifty-seven feet 
high. Over this is a dome two hundred and twenty 
feet high, with a marble tower rising three hundred 
and sixty feet from the pavement. The roof also is 
of marble, and is adorned with nearly one hundred tur- 
rets or pinnacles, each surmounted by a marble statue 
of some saint or hero (Napoleon I among them), while 
every niche and corner bears the same. Even the su- 
perb columns inside, which support the massive marble 
roof, have canopied niches, with statues instead of cap- 

151 




European itals. Altogether, inside and outside, the Duomo is 

Days and said to have over five thousand marble statues, and 

Ways is unique in this respect. It stands in the center of a 

great square, or "piazza," as the Italians say, and covers 

an area of fourteen thousand square yards, and will 

hold forty thousand people, as claimed. 

Its stained-glass windows in the choir are said to be 
the largest and most beautiful in the world, and are 
certainly a mass of color and splendor. They are of 
Scripture subjects, from the Creation down to the 
Crucifixion, and picture the whole life of man. Most 
of them are three and four centuries old, and all are 
exquisite and glorious. One might linger there for days, 
studying these windows alone, as works of divinest art. 
The interior, as a whole, is not so rich in mosaics and 
paintings as St. Peter's, but it abounds in costly marbles, 
rare bronzes, and magnificent tombs, and the general 
effect of the Duomo as a whole is most solemn and 
impressive. Its general style is Gothic, with many 
divergences; but it is more churchlike than St. Peter's, 
and I believe it to be the finest ecclesiastical edifice 
upon the earth. It is poetry in marble. It is carved 
eloquence. It is frozen music. It is sublime, and uplift- 
ing, and Christlike, and does more to inspire the re- 
ligious sentiments than all the Madonnas and saints from 
Naples to Milan. 

Just within the main entrance is a band of brass 
across the pavement, and a little slit high up in the 
thick wall admits a ray of sunlight at noon that tra- 
verses this brass from wall to wall, and so fixes Milan's 
meridian. In the center of the north transept is a val- 
uable bronze candelabrum, in the form of a tree with 

152 



seven branches, executed in the thirteenth century, and Milan — 
decorated with costly jewels — a really wonderful piece The DUOIHO 
of art". Under the dome, in a crypt, lies the embalmed 
body of the Cardinal St. Carlo Borromeo, canonized 
for his good deeds during the great famine and plague 
of 1576. His body lies in a silver sarcophagus, faced 
with rock-crystal, and is adored by an almost continuous 
stream of pilgrims and sight-seers. In the right tran- 
sept, to the rear of the altar, but adjacent, is the marble 
statue of St. Bartholomew, executed in the sixteenth 
century, and anatomically remarkable, because St. 
Bartholomew is represented as an ordinary man flayed 
alive, but bearing his skin on his shoulder, with every 
muscle and vein clear and distinct. How he managed 
to live and move after being thus "flayed alive," I 
do n't know; but his statue is remarkable for its fidelity 
and skill, anatomically considered, and is the only one 
of the kind we saw abroad, though there are copies 
elsewhere. They have many other treasures in the 
Duomo, but its chief treasure is a nail of the true cross 
(so they say). They keep this inclosed in a costly box 
of rock-crystal in the great apse of the cathedral, high 
up above the high altar, where all may see and adore 
it from all parts of the Duomo. Once a year they take 
it down, and carry it in holy procession through the 
broad aisles and up the great nave of the Duomo, and 
it heals the sick, cures the lame, makes the blind to 
see, the deaf to hear, etc. So they say at Milan. And 
it is only an old rusty nail, too ! But then it is from 
Palestine ! 

The founder of the Milanese Church was St. Am- 
brose, who is greatly venerated throughout Lombardy 

153 



European as the compiler of the Ambrosian Liturgy, which is still 

D9yS and in use at the Duomo, and never gave place to St. Peter's. 

Ways In former centuries, Rome often essayed to establish 

her ritual here, as elsewhere in the world. But Milan 

stood loyally by St. Ambrose, and does so still. 

I walked all around the Duomo one day, and was 
there several times. I liked to drop in alone, and wander 
from spot to spot, and take in things by myself. I 
think that is the only way to "do" a great church or gal- 
lery. One does n't want a "guide," if he reads up a 
little. Better to see and meditate by one's self. You 
will soon get all you want in this way, and get it a great 
deal better than from a chattering and usually half- 
informed or misinformed guide; especially if you pick 
up a little of the language, which you will everywhere 
do, if you try seriously. I attended high mass there 
one day, for an hour or two. The music was divine, 
and rolled and echoed through the great Duomo like 
paradisiac thunder and melody. There were four arch- 
bishops and bishops present, and forty-four other ec- 
clesiastics, by actual count, and about three hundred 
people, mostly of the poorer classes. The exercises 
were chiefly genuflexions and ceremonies, with swing- 
ing censers everywhere. It was all very democratic, 
however. I got up as near the altar as laymen were 
allowed, and found a seat on a long wooden bench. 
A woman with a child in her arms and another with 
a market-basket sat down near me, and a flock of Ameri- 
can tourists, largely young ladies, roamed about at will, 
with "Baedeker" in hand and in open-eyed wonder. The 
service went on all the same, and so did these kin of 
mine. The Italians did not seem to mind that. But 

154 



what would we Americans think of such irreverence Milan — 
and disrespect in time of religious services? Evidently ArG9(l6S 
the Italians regard us all as a sort of half-barbarians 
and privileged heathen, because our travel pays so well. 
An intelligent Milanese told me that Italy realizes 
nearly $100,000,000 a year from foreign travel alone, 
of which America contributes about one-half. "And 
so," he said, "it pays us to take care of our antiquities 
and art!" 

Next to the Duomo, I think the finest thing in Milan 
is the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele, or the Arcade of 
Victor Emmanuel. This is not ancient, but modern — 
built 1865-67 — and is one of the most spacious and 
beautiful edifices of its kind in Europe. It connects 
two of the chief squares of Milan, and cost nearly two 
millions of dollars. It is in the form of a Latin cross, 
nine hundred and sixty feet long by forty-eight feet 
wide, and ninety-four feet high, with a dome over the 
center one hundred and eighty feet in height. The dec- 
orations are well executed, and bear testimony to the 
good taste of modern Milan. It is adorned with frescoes 
of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America; of Science, Art, 
Industry, and Agriculture; and with statues of famous 
Italians, including Arnold of Brescia, Cavour, Vittore 
Pisano, Gian Galeazzo Visconti (the founder of the 
Duomo), Macchiavelli, Marco Polo, Raphael, Galileo, 
Dante, Michael Angelo, Volta, Beccaria, Columbus, 
Savonarola, etc. On the first floor are handsome shops 
and splendid cafes, and at night the whole place is ablaze 
with electric lights and crowded with the elite of Milan. 
Everybody comes here to dine, or to sip his coffee and 
hear the military band play, as in the piazza of St. Mark's 

155 



European at Venice, or the piazza at Florence, and all good Ameri- 

DflyS and cans meet here, of course. 

Ways Just beyond this magnificent arcade, which would 
be a credit to any city or any century, is the Piazza della 
Scala, with Milan's monument to Leonardo da Vinci, 
also modern (1872). It is a statue of the great master 
in Carrara marble, over life-size, on a high pedestal, 
surrounded by four of his most famous pupils, and 
adorned with copies in relief of his greatest works. 
Everybody goes to see this, of course, and it is well 
worth a visit. But Leonardo's great masterpiece is not 
in this handsome piazza, but in the refectory of the 
old monastery of S. Maria delle Grazie, now or late a 
cavalry barracks. This is his world-famous "Last Sup- 
per," and is now so faded and forlorn as to be much 
of it obscure, if not indecipherable. It was discovered 
in Napoleon's time at Milan, covered over with white- 
wash, when a company of his cavalry was quartered in 
this old monastery. It has since been rescued and made 
the most of, and as you study it the genius of the great 
master becomes more and more apparent. But what 
must it not have been when fresh and new? There 
have been many copies of it, and good ones too; but 
they all fail to exhibit the features and emotions which 
Leonardo meant to express, and which are still dis- 
cernible in the grand old picture, faded though it be. 
As Goethe well says : "The artist represents the peace- 
ful little band [of the disciples] around the sacred table 
as thunderstruck by the Master's words, 'One of you 
shall betray me.' The whole company is in dismay, 
while he himself bows his head with downcast eyes. 
His whole attitude, the motion of his arms and hands, 

156 



Brera 



all seem to repeat with heavenly resignation, and his Milflll- 
silence to confirm, the mournful words: 'It can not be "Last 
otherwise. One of you shall betray me!' ' Slipper" 

While studying it, and drinking in all that is best 
and noblest in it, in tramped a party of young ladies 
from Philadelphia, chaperoned by a lady from New 
York, well known to us at home, and the exchange 
of our travel experiences absorbed the rest of the hour. 
Nevertheless, we saw the "Last Supper" well, and ad- 
vise everybody else to go see it when at Milan. It is 
one of the world's greatest paintings, and its memory 
will survive even when its colors are no more. 

Next we went to the Brera, or the Palace of Science, 
Letters, and Art, formerly a Jesuit college, but now 
a picture gallery, a library (three hundred thousand 
volumes), a collection of coins (fifty thousand), an 
observatory, a collection of casts from the antique, and 
an archaeological museum. Surely this is an improved 
use to put the old edifice to ! As you enter, in the 
center of the handsome court, a fine bronze statue of 
Napoleon I as a Roman emperor, by Canova, greets 
you. Inside, the gem of the paintings is Raphael's far- 
famed Sposalizio, or the "Nuptials of the Virgin," 
painted in 1504, and never surpassed by him. It is not 
unlike Perugino's painting of the same subject, but dis- 
plays more genius. Here, also, are many other fine 
pictures, by Palma Vecchio, Gentile Bellini, Paul Vero- 
nese, Tintoretto, Titian, Guido Reni, Rubens, Van- 
Dyck, Jordaens, and other masters. There are some 
portraits especially of men and women, by Lorenzo 
Lotto, that would be hard to surpass elsewhere, and 
the gallery as a whole is well worthy of Milan. 

LS7 



European Next we went to the Museo Poldi-Pezzoldi, which 

Days and is a charming collection of nearly everything in art, 
Ways made at great expense, and recently bequeathed to 
Milan by its founder, Cav. Poldi-Pezzoldi, together with 
the superb house or palace in which he lived. His wife 
died; his children died; his brothers and sisters all died; 
and then he gave the elegant property, to which he had 
devoted his life and fortune, to Milan and her citizens 
forever. The building itself is spacious and beautiful; 
but the collection seems incomparable for a private per- 
sonage, including valuable pictures, arms and armor, 
and many exquisite objects of antiquity. Here are 
marble statues and statuettes that seem to live and 
breathe; superb wood-carvings; Turkish and Persian 
carpets, as lovely as oil-paintings; Dresden, Sevres, 
Japanese, and Chinese vases and porcelains, charming 
as a dream; gold and silver plate; valuable vessels, em- 
bellished with gems and enameling; Romanesque crosses 
and reliquaries; Roman and Oriental bronzes, antique 
glass, etc.; Persian weapons, Cloisonne enamelware 
from India and China; and mirrors, tables, cabinets, 
bureaus, bookcases, and bedsteads, that fascinate and 
bewilder you. One handsome carved bedstead in par- 
ticular, on the first floor, unique and exquisite in all its 
details, has its four feet resting each on the back of 
some animal, symbolic of what rest and sleep may over- 
come; such as care, fatigue, grief, and trouble. We 
felt well repaid for the hour or two we spent here, 
and Milan may well be proud of such a museum and 
such a citizen. 

Of course, we went to Bocconi's. Signor Bocconi 
is the John Wanamaker of Italy, and he boasts of great 

158 



BoGGoni's 



department stores in all the chief cities of the kingdom. Milan — 
We visited several of these, but none better than the Poldi- 
one in Milan, if any so good. Here was everything PeZZOldl 
for sale, raw and ready-made, in styles and at prices 
to suit the purchaser, and customers swarmed as at 
our Wanamaker's. We did some "shopping" here, and 
found it quite satisfactory; but it seemed extraordinary 
he had so few English-speaking salespeople, in view 
of the large English and American travel at Milan. 

The last thing we did at Milan was to take a tram- 
car ride on the "Circonvallazione," or the belt-line 
around the city. This runs on the site of the old city 
walls, and is several miles in extent. Parts of the old 
walls are still standing, and most of the old city gates, 
and the old canals of Milan are still there and in use. 
The ride shows you all parts of the city well, except 
the modern suburbs, and gives one a better general 
idea of Milan than is otherwise obtainable. One can 
not but conclude that Milan is a prosperous and pro- 
gressive city, and its people wide-awake and artistic. 

We stopped at the Hotel Roma, on the Corso Vit- 
torio Emanuele, only a block or two away from the 
Duomo and the great Arcade, and found comfortable 
entertainment, but not first-class. Indeed, the hotels 
of Milan are not equal to the city otherwise, and which- 
ever one you go to, you will likely regret you did not 
stop at some other one. But there are many of them, 
as well as "pensions," and one takes his choice! 



159 




Chapter XII 

E left Milan, Saturday afternoon, July 15th, 
and the same evening arrived at Bellagio, 
on Lake Como. It was first a short ride 
by rail to Como itself — a town of ten or 
twelve thousand people, at the south end of the south- 
west arm of Lake Como, surrounded by an amphi- 
theater of mountains, and noted for its large silk manu- 
factories — and then a steamboat ride up the lake to 
Bellagio. The lake itself is about thirty miles long b^ 
two or three wide, and surrounded by mountains, some 
of them seven thousand feet high — the Italian Alps. 
Lake Como was extolled by Virgil in his day, and 
may well be considered the most beautiful lake in 
Northern Italy. The little steamboat zigzagged from 
one side of the lake to the other, touching at all the 
villages and summer resorts, landing or taking on pas- 
sengers, and once or twice was struck by thundergusts 
so violent that it could not make its landings at all. 
The ride up the lake, however, was picturesque and ex- 
quisite beyond description, and the change of climate 
from hot Milan was most charming and delightful. 
How cool and grateful its temperate breezes seemed 
after the tropic heat of Milan and the plains of Lom- 
bardy! The great mountains crowd quite down to the 
water's edge, naked and barren above, but clad with 

160 



clustering farms and villages below, and with a climate Lake CORK) 
so mild that palms/ roses, oranges, lemons, and figs 
thrive in the open air, their delicious perfume borne 
on every breeze. 

We landed at Bellagio early in the evening, re- 
freshed by our lake ride, and found excellent quarters, 
at moderate rates. Bellagio is a little town of about a 
thousand inhabitants, scattered along the base of the 
rocky promontory that separates the two arms of the 
lake there. It 
abounds in hotels 
and pensions, all 
more or less good, 
and seemed to 
u s — w e a r y of 
Venice and Milan 
and their summer 
heat — one of the 
most charming 
spots in the 
world. We halted 
there to spend Sunday only, but were so charmed with Lake Como, 
the place that we staid nearly a week, and were loath 
to depart. The walks and grounds about the great 
hotels abounded in flowers and fruits, and the old town 
itself, with its ancient arcades, picturesque boats, and 
rows of washerwomen along shore — with great white 
umbrellas over them, while they beat and rinsed their 
clothes — was always of interest. It has only one street 
along the water; the others, narrow and steep, mere 
rocky alleys, run straight up the mountain or zigzag 
along its sides. 

ii 161 




European I had been reading about Lake Como all my life, 

Days and and here it was at last, surpassing my expectations. 
Ways The lake was a gem by day and a dream by night. 
Lofty mountains frame it in on all sides, with snow- 
peaks here and there gleaming in the distance. The 
climate seemed perfect for July; neither too hot nor too 
cool. Life in the daytime seemed idyllic, and at night 
we had the July moon in her first quarter, with a wil- 
derness of stars in the deep blue of the Italian sky, 

-i while the tinkle 
of distant cow- 
bells came to us 
across the water 
from the chalets 
along the moun- 
tain sides. A 
brace of lovely 
swans kept us 
company at our 
meals, catching 
the morsels we 
tossed them from our table under the plane-trees along 
the shore, and nearly every evening a thunder-shower, 
just at sunset, swept over the mountains and along the 
lake, and added to the weird beauty and sublimity of 
the landscape. No wonder Byron loved the Italian 
lakes, and we fully realized the fine lines which he wrote : 

"Far along, 
From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, 
Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, 
But every mountain now hath found a tongue, 
And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, 
Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!" 
162 




Lake Como, 
from moun- 
tain above 
Menaggio. 



One day we took a little steamer in the morning, 
and went up the southeast arm of the Lake to Lecco, 
where it contracts into the River Adda and flows out 
under the Ponte Grande — a stone bridge of ten arches, 
built in 1335, and still in good condition. Lecco is a 
busy little town of about six thousand inhabitants, at 
the foot of a mountain, with silk, cotton, and iron 
works, with statues of Manzoni and Garibaldi in its 
piazza. It has an old church, and abounds in old castles, 
tombs, shrines, 
etc. We took a 
romantic drive 
along and through 
its ancient streets, 
by its old garden 
walls surmounted 
by queer dwarfs 
and dogs, keep- 
ing watch and 
ward over the 
gardens, and got 
back to Bellagio in time for dinner. This arm of the 
lake is very beautiful, but the mountains are not so 
lofty nor the scenery so grand as from Como to Bel- 
lagio. Nevertheless, the excursion to Lecco is well 
worth taking, if one has the time. 

Another day we crossed the lake to Cadenabbia, 
and spent a delightful morning in the Villa Carlotta 
and its handsome grounds. Here are celebrated reliefs 
by Thorwaldsen, and sculptures by Canova and others, 
and in the spacious garden or grounds are rare trees 
and exotics, roses, flowers, and palms, that could 

163 



Como — 
Imo 




Monte Rese- 
gone, Lecco. 



European flourish only in such an environment as here. How 
Days and exquisite it all is, with the overshading mountains on 
Ways one side, Lake Como at your feet, and the superb 
mountains rising again on the farther shore, with the 
Italian sky bending over all! No wonder the rich and 
the cultured, the noble and the titled of England, and 
all Europe indeed, frequent Lake Como, and build 
their villas and summer-houses along its lovely shores. 
And no wonder American tourists love to visit and 

linger here. If 
not Paradise Re- 
gained, surely it 
is the next thing 
to it, and not dis- 
tant. 

But all things 
come to an end, 
and so one after- 
noon we packed 
our bags, and left 
for Lugano (July 
19th). We crossed Lake Como to Menaggio by boat, 
and here took a little narrow-gauge railroad over the 
mountain to Porlezza, on Lake Lugano. This ride was 
charming in its way, the road winding in and out over 
crag and torrent, with far-stretching views of Lake 
Como at times, and, when finally we got down to Lake 
Lugano, we seemed to be on Como again. Of course, 
Lugano is not so grand as Como, nor so picturesque, 
but it is very fine in its way; and if one had not been 
to Como first, he would be enraptured with Lugano. 
At Porlezza we took a little steamer down the lake to 

164 




Washer- 
women, 
Lake Lecco. 



Lugano itself, and intended to ascend Monte S. Salva- MenajjiO — 
tore (about three thousand feet high) by cableroad, LliganO 
and spend the night there, overlooking the Italian 
Alps. But our boat was late, and so we had to spend 
the night at Lugano instead. 

We might have stopped at a worse place. For 
Lugano is a smart little city of some seven thousand 
population, with villas and country-seats scattered along 
the lake, embowered in vineyards and gardens, and 
abounding with chestnuts and walnuts. A broad quay, 
with double rows of trees, extends along the lake front, 
a popular promenade of an evening, while the interior 
of the town has arcades, workshops, and old buildings, 
quite Italian in their character. The mountain and lake 
views are both very fine here, but they, do not equal 
the views at Bellagio or Cadenabbia. 

We did not visit Lake Maggiore and the other 
Italian lakes, because we did not care for them after 
Como and Lugano, and also because we were eager to 
get into Switzerland. Neither did we cross the Simplon, 
and go thence to Mont Blanc and Geneva, as we had 
originally planned. We found this would involve a 
diligence ride of ten or twelve hours over the moun- 
tains, and it might be in the rain, and as some of us 
did not feel equal to this, we decided to go on to 
Lucerne instead. 



165 




Chapter XIII 

E left Lugano, July 20th, at 9.30 A. M., and 
reached Lucerne the same day at 5 P. M. 
We went via the St. Gothard Railroad, 
through the famous St. Gothard Pass to 
Fluelen, and thence by steamboat to Lucerne. It was 
a wild and wonderful ride by railroad, through the 
mountains, along precipices, over torrents, through 
tunnels, by "Devil's Bridges," following the Reuss 
and its tributaries mainly, and when at last we came 
out on Lake Lucerne it was like coming from Inferno 
to Paradise again. 

St. Gothard is a mountain group, with extensive 
glaciers, and numerous peaks, averaging from eight 
thousand to ten thousand feet high. The Pass itself 
is a barren depression about seven thousand feet above 
the level of the sea. The Romans used to come this 
way, when invading Austria and Germany, and it has 
been the highway of armies and commerce for cen- 
turies. The railroad was built here 1872- 1882 to con- 
nect Germany and Italy, and cost over $40,000,000. It 
took 2,500 workmen most of the time, and sometimes 
as high as 3,500 were engaged. It has one tunnel alone 
nine and a quarter miles long, the longest in the world; 
and altogether the line has fifty-six tunnels, thirty-two 
great bridges, ten viaducts, and twenty-four minor 

166 



bridges. It was built chiefly by German capital, largely St. Gotliard 
for military reasons, when Italy joined the Triple Alii- The Alps 
ance (Germany, Austria, and Italy), and has extensive 
fortifications at each end of the Great Tunnel. Noth- 
ing could be grander or sublimer than this railroad ride 
much of the way. The mountains towered ever before 
us and around us. Snowfields and snowpeaks were 
often in evidence. Distant avalanches were not infre- 
quent. Waterfalls were on every side, and mountain 
torrents foamed and roared everywhere, like rivers of 
lace. The road climbs the Pass by gentle gradients, or 
shoots through dark tunnels, or poises itself on the 
edge of dizzy precipices, and often startles one's nerves 
by its audacity and daring. But it has been well built 
and is well managed, and, on the whole, we enjoyed 
the journey greatly. A superb wagon-road preceded 
it, and is always in sight from the car windows, and 
a carriage drive over this must be exhilarating and in- 
spiring. 

The country as a whole is naturally barren and un- 
inviting, but it is well peopled and made the most of. 
There are little villages and scattered chalets every- 
where, with wayside churches and shrines, and herds 
of cows and goats, and industrious and hard-working 
men and women. The houses and barns are mostly 
of logs or frame, with their roofs loaded down with 
rocks, and the fence-posts and vineyard poles are often 
of stone. In all the secluded valleys and sheltered nooks 
vineyards abound, as in Italy, and the language and 
dress of the inhabitants indicate an Italian extraction 
for many of them. Indeed, the Italian and Swiss Alps 
run altogether, and the races have mingled insensibly. 

167 



European At Fliielen we left the cars, and took a little lake 
Days and steamer down Lake Lucerne to Lucerne. The Lake 
Ways of Lucerne, or "Lake of the Four Forest Cantons," as 
called there, is bounded by the Forest Cantons of Uri, 
Schwyz, Unterwalden, and Lucerne, and is "unsur- 
passed in Switzerland, and even in Europe, in magnifi- 
cence of scenery." We had thought Como and Lugano 
beautiful and grand, and so they are; but Lucerne cer- 
tainly surpasses them, and nothing could be finer. The 

lake itself is 
nearly cruciform, 
about twenty-five 
miles long by two 
and one-half wide, 
and greatest depth 
seven hundred 
feet. There is a 
railroad along one 
side of it (St. Go- 
thard), but it also 
has a fleet of 
LakeLu- twenty-five little steamboats, that ply constantly over 
Rigi ^' an< ^ ^ an< ^ P assen g ers a t every hotel and hamlet. These 
are a feature of all the Swiss lakes, and are delightful 
in their appointments and management. The wooded 
mountains crowd quite down to the water's edge; but 
villas, hotels, and pensions crown the bluff shores every- 
where, and the travel from point to point is large and 
constant. As we passed down the lake we took on 
parties everywhere that had come up from Lucerne 
for the day or week, and not a few of these were Amer- 
icans or English, though the Germans preponderated. 

1 68 




Soon we reached Tell's Platte, with its little Tell's 
Chapel, said to have been built originally in 1388 on the 
spot where William Tell sprang out of Gessler's boat, 
and afterwards shot that tyrant. Historians now, how- 
ever, doubt the whole story; but the Tell legend still 
remains strong among the Swiss people, and ought to 
be true, if it is not. Then 
presently on the right rose 
the Rigi, on the left Pilatus, 
and facing us were the Biir- 
genstock, the Buochser 
Horn, the Stanser Horn, 
the Wetterhorn, the Schreck- 
horn, Monch, Eiger, Jungfrau, 
and a host of lesser mountains. 
Above all towered Pilatus, seven 
thousand feet high, its barren, 
rugged peaks sharp against the 
sky, but swathed in clouds about 
the summit, while on the oppo- 
site shore loomed the Rigi, not 
so lofty (about six thousand 
feet), but smiling in sunshine, its 
lower slopes covered with gar- 
dens and villas, and its upper with forests and pastures. 
Before us lay the city of Lucerne, with its towers and 
battlements and churches, like a diamond upon the 
breast of a Roman matron, and nothing more was 
needed to complete the idyllic picture. 

Lucerne itself is a goodly city of twenty-five thou- 
sand inhabitants, and the capital of the canton of that 
name. It lies at the efflux or exit of the River Reuss, 

169 



Lake LuGerne 




Monch and 
Eiger, Eiger 
Glacier. 



European which enters the Lake of Lucerne near Fliielen, and 
Days 3nd flows out at Lucerne, emerald green, with the swift- 
Ways ness of a torrent. It is crossed by several bridges, two 
of which — foot-bridges only — date back to old mediaeval 
days and cross the river obliquely. These are the 
Kapellbrucke and Miihlenbrucke, and are covered with 
roofs, painted on the inside with scenes from Swiss his- 
tory and the lives of the patron saints of Lucerne, and 
with a "Dance of Death." The paintings, however, all 
date from the eighteenth century, and are rather mat- 
ters of curiosity than of art. The city itself is sur- 
rounded by well-preserved walls of brick and stone, with 
watch-towers and gates, erected in 1385, and with its 
amphitheatrical situation, facing the Rigi and Pilatus, 
with the lake at its feet and the snowclad Alps beyond, 
is of surpassing interest and beauty. 

Along its front is a magnificent quay, made by fill- 
ing in the shallow waters of the lake, and planting rows 
of horse-chestnuts, whose branches have been trained 
to interlace, and thus form an umbrageous bower from 
the sun. Here are seats and chairs ad libitum, and bands 
of music at night, and boats to hire, both by day and 
night. These boats all carry little flags, according to 
the taste or nationalities of their occupants, and it was 
pleasant to note that not a few bore the Stars and 
Stripes. Here, on this great quay, were thousands of 
promenaders, well-dressed gentlemen and ladies, both 
by day and night, and frequently at night there were 
illuminations also, both on water and land, in imitation 
of Venetian carnivals. Just beyond the quay and bor- 
dering on it, fronting the lake, is a magnificent avenue, 
lined with great hotels and residences, and the city 

170 



proper lies back of this, with its shops, stores, and Luceme- 
churches. We found the hotels all full, but secured LiOH Of 
good accommodations at the Beaurivage, fronting on LUG6Me 
the lake, and continued there several days. 

We found Lucerne a very interesting old place, and 
enjoyed our stay there very much. It is full of hotels 
and pensions, and all Europe and America seem to pour 
in here during the summer — over three hundred thou- 
sand in a season, so they said. It abounds in lovely 
walks and views, and old fountains and statues, and 
ancient walls and battlements, and its shops are among 
the finest in Europe. Of course, our ladies went "shop- 
ping," and reported good results; but I strolled all over 
the city, and along its old walls and towers by myself 
usually, and always came back well repaid for my fatigue. 
We all went together to see the famous "Lion of Lu- 
cerne." This is a fine work by Thorwaldsen, executed 
in 1 82 1 to the memory of the officers and soldiers of 
the Swiss Guard (some eight hundred), who fell at 
Paris in 1792 in defense of the Tuileries. It represents 
a dying lion of gigantic size, reclining in a grotto, trans- 
fixed by a broken lance, and sheltering the French lily 
with its paw. It is hewn out of the natural sandstone 
rock there, and is very touching and effective. It is 
surrounded by trees and shrubs and ferns, and a spring 
at the top flows down and forms a pool at the base. 
An intermittent fountain plays before it now and then, 
and there are always groups of tourists studying it. 
There are lovely walks all about it, and one of them 
leads up to the "Glacier Garden" above it, which is 
well worth visiting. This contains thirty-two "pot- 
holes" or "giants' cauldrons," of different sizes (one 

171 



European twenty-six feet wide and thirty deep), made by rocks 

Days and worn by water or glacial action, discovered here in 1872, 

Ways and connected by steps and bridges. A museum there 

contains a reconstruction of a lacustrine village, a relief 

of a glacier, a relief of Central Switzerland, and some 

genuine relics of the glacial period. 

In the older parts of the town are many quaint and 
picturesque houses of the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
turies. The ancient Rathhaus in the corn-market dates 

from 1519. A 
queer old Gothic 
fountain in the 
wine-market was 
erected in 1382; 
another in 1481. 
On the rising 
ground overlook- 
ing the quay and 
lake is the Hof- 
kirche, a vener- 
able church 
Lucerne, founded in the seventh century, restored in the seven- 
teenth century, and now standing solid and secure, with 
two unique slender towers and spires erected about 
1506. It contains a carved pulpit and stalls and crucifix 
by famous wood-carvers, and stained-glass windows of 
exceptional beauty, and an old organ we shall never 
forget. It was built in 165 1, and reconstructed in 1862, 
and is a superb instrument. It plays every day from 
6.30 P. M. to 7.30 P. M., and the day we were there it 
gave us pieces from Bach, Handel, Mendelssohn, and 
Mozart, and then a "Fantaisie" of a thunderstorm among 

172 




the Alps. This last surpassed anything we ever heard. LllGeme — 
The great organ seemed to quiver and speak. You Cathedral 
could hear the patter of the rain, the sweep of the tem- 
pest, and the crash and roar of the thunder, until the old 
church seemed ready to topple and fall about you. 
Through the midst of it all, the old Alpine folksong rang 
out, clear and flutelike, from the vox humana stops, and 
the audience sat awed and spellbound. It was a great 
organ, greatly played, and we shall never forget its great 
and noble music that evening at Lucerne. Outside and 
around the church is a neglected and shabby-looking 
graveyard or Campo Santo, that compares unfavorably 
with what we saw in Italy, though this is a Roman 
Catholic church too, and Lucerne is a Catholic city. 

Another evening we climbed up the Gutsch, a moun- 
tain nearly two thousand feet high, at the west end of 
Lucerne, and dined there. We went up by "funiculare," 
or cable-road, and had a splendid view of the city, the 
lake, the Rigi, and the Alps of Uri, Unterwalden, and 
Engelberg, and had an excellent dinner as well. We 
found a German Swiss there, who spoke a little Eng- 
lish, and, as I spoke a little German, we got on famously 
together. 

We did not go up Pilatus, because it seemed envel- 
oped with clouds and mists nearly every day, but as- 
cended the Rigi instead. We took a little steamer up 
the lake to Vitznau, and thence ascended to the Rigi- 
Kulm or summit by a "rack-and-pinion" or cogwheel 
railroad. Our progress was slow, but we had magnifi- 
cent views from the outset. The base of the Rigi is 
planted with chestnut and almond trees, and above these 
are gentle slopes and broad terraces, covered with pas- 



European tures and cows. As you ascend, the landscape of lake 
Days and and mountain unfolds before you, until you take in a 
Ways view three hundred miles in circumference, as said, and 
unsurpassed for beauty in Switzerland. When you get 
to the summit, you are six thousand feet up in the sky, 
and a wonderful panorama of mountain and valley, of 
lake and river, of cities and towns, stretches around you. 
The jagged peaks of the snowclad Alps and of the 
Bernese Alps, clad in perpetual snow, crown the land- 
scape by the score and hundred, while Lakes Zug and 
Lucerne nestle at your feet. It was a scene of a life- 
time, and there are no words to describe it adequately. 
There are fine hotels on the Kulm (of stone), where 
many stay all night to see the sun set and rise, but we 
were satisfied with what we saw by day. We dined, and 
then lay around on the rocks and grass, and talked and 
dreamed, and took photographs of what interested us, 
and late in the afternoon returned to Lucerne. Up on 
the Kulm it was really hot in the sun, with mosquitoes, 
gnats, and flies in abundance, and as vicious as ever I 
saw, but cool in the shade. It is an all-day's trip to 
ascend the Rigi and return. But it repays one richly. 
Mt. Washington is good, but it bears no comparison 
to the Rigi. 

We found people of all nationalities on the Rigi, but 
the only "piggish" or selfish creature was a Frenchman. 
Outwardly polite — a mere surface politeness — he wanted 
the best of everything, and did not hesitate to appro- 
priate this, even from ladies. We gave him a "setback" 
or a "backset," when he tried to take the best seat in 
the car from one of our ladies at the Rigi-Kulm, and his 
fellow-passengers had no sympathy for him. There were 

174 



some English and Americans and a few Italians; but the LllG&Me 
Germans outnumbered all, with their perpetual "Ja ! Ja ! 
Ja!" and good nature, and keen intelligence, and we 
were the best of friends with them always. 

We spent a Sunday at Lucerne, and sought out the 
English church, but found it rebuilding on a larger and 
handsomer scale on the chief avenue of the city. Thence 
we went to the old Swiss Protestant church, where an 
English service was being held, and found it full of Eng- 
lish and Americans. The music was first-class, and we 
saw more clean and Christian folks, it seemed to me, 
than in all Europe before. One of the hymns given 
out was, — 

" When all thy mercies, O my God, 

My rising soul surveys, 
Transported with the view I 'm lost 

In wonder, love, and praise," — 

and the congregation sang it with a fervor and swing 
seldom heard even in America. 

On the whole, we liked Eucerne well. It was 
differentiated from the Italian cities by the com- 
plete absence of officers and soldiers. Not a mili- 
tary man was to be seen anywhere. No standing 
army in Switzerland; but the little Republic rests upon 
its citizens, a few police now and then, but not many 
of these. The Swiss believe in the schoolhouse and the 
spelling-book rather. But, we regret to record, we first 
saw men and women here harnessed up with dogs, draw- 
ing milk and vegetable wagons about the city, and saw 
women bearing burdens on their heads that would break 
the backs of their American sisters. 



175 




Chapter XIV 

L were at Lucerne just a week, and left there 
for Interlaken July 27th. We went by the 
way of the romantic and picturesque Briinig 
Pass to Meiringen, and from there via Brienz 
to Interlaken. The day was warm, but our road skirted 
the Lake of Lucerne, and winding around the base of 
Pilatus soon began to ascend, and the heat gradually 
moderated. It was an ordinary steam railroad for sev- 
eral miles, through mountain valleys and along moun- 
tain slopes, with snow-peaks and snow-ranges in the dis- 
tance, but with fine farms and good farm-buildings 
everywhere. The fields were small, but well cultivated. 
The houses were typical Swiss chalets with overhanging 
roofs and balconies, and stairways outside, and, as we 
got farther up into the mountains, with their roofs 
weighted down with rocks, as a precaution against the 
winter tempests, which are violent here at times. Red 
clover, wild carrots, and buttercups grew in the fields, 
as at home; apple and cherry trees abounded every- 
where; and along many of the streams and marshes 
pond-lilies grew freely, as in America. Here and there 
were a few scattered Lombardy poplars, but always aged 
and in decay, as in America. At Alpnach, a pretty little 
hamlet, we passed a modern church, with a tall and 
slender spire, erected from the proceeds of the sale of 

176 



timber cut from the forests of Mount Pilatus, and 
brought down by a wooden slide eight miles long. 

At Gisweil you get well up into the mountains, and 
the railroad changes to the "rack-and-pinion" system, 
and your progress becomes a slow climb. The road runs 
by steep gradients, through tunnels and rock-cuttings, 
across torrents and along the edge of dizzy precipices, 
high above the picturesque Lake of Lungern, until 
finally you reach Briinig, on the crest of the divide, not 
far from the old 
Briinig Pass, 
about thirty-three 
hundred feet 
above the sea. 
Here you get fine 
views of the Wet- 
terhorn, and the 
Engelhorner, and 
the Faulhorn 
chain, and of 
Meiringen, and 
Lake Brienz, and here also you find a first-rate moun- 
tain hotel and railroad restaurant. It must be a de- 
lightful spot to spend a few days in summer; but we 
had to hasten on after a brief lunch. Thence down to 
Meiringen we went partly by "rack-and-pinion" road, 
and partly by steam railroad, through rock-cuttings and 
tunnels, by overhanging cliffs, and finally descended into 
the valley of the Aar. The ride through the Briinig 
Pass is justly famed throughout Europe, as one of the 
most beautiful in Switzerland, but it did not seem to us 
so picturesque as the ride through the St. Gothard. 
i2 177 



Brunig Pass 
"Rack and 
Pinion" 
Railroad 




"Working 

like a dog,' 
Interlaken. 



European The Aar runs through a level valley two or three 

Days and miles wide, surrounded by wooded mountains, with 
Ways snow-peaks in the distance. Originally it meandered all 
through its valley, but long ago it was taken in hand by 
the Swiss, and reduced to a straight channel, safe- 
guarded by stone walls, and thousands of acres of wild 
marshes were thus converted into good meadow-land. 
They are still doing this with other streams here and 
elsewhere in Switzerland, not allowing them to wander 
and wash about at their own sweet will, but curbing and 
controlling them in fixed courses, at infinite labor and 
expense; and ultimately they will make these mountain 
valleys "bloom and blossom as the rose." 

A ride of an hour or so by steam railroad down the 
valley of the Aar brought us to Brienz, at the head 
of the lake of the same name — a town of two or three 
thousand people, stretching along the lake, bounded by 
green pastures and fruit-trees, and celebrated for its 
wood-carving industry, which employs several hundred 
persons. We were now in the heart of the Bernese Ober- 
land, with wooded mountains, glistening snow-peaks, 
and flashing waterfalls all about us. Here we took a 
little steamer, and rode down Lake Brienz to Interlaken, 
some nine or ten miles — an exquisite ending to our 
day's journey. 

Interlaken ("Between the Lakes") is really not much 
of a place, only about five or six thousand inhabitants. 
But its situation is charming and its air in summer ideal. 
It is on a piece of level land — level as a prairie — between 
the Lakes of Brienz and Thun, which are about two 
miles apart, and one several feet higher than the other. 
The river Aar connects them, and flows like a mill-race 

178 



from Brienz into Thun. Back of Interlaken are wooded 
mountains, abrupt and lofty; in front great mountain 
ranges, with the Jungfrau towering back of all. It has 
but one street, the Hoheweg, a broad avenue of old 
walnuts, flanked by great hotels and shops on one side, 
and by the city park, or "Meadow," on the other. Here, 
near the northeast end of the Hoheweg, is an old 
monastery and nunnery, founded in 1130, but suppressed 
in 1528, and now used in part as a hospital and city hall; 
the rest is used 
for Anglican, 
Scottish Presby- 
terian, French 
Protestant, and 
Roman Catholic 
services, indiffer- 
ent 1 y — a good 
specimen of Swiss 
toleration. 

We found good 
quarters at the 
Belvidere, a hotel on the Hoheweg, directly fronting the 
Jungfrau. We could sit at our table, and see all the 
changing features of the mountains, and watch the 
"Alpen-glow" fade out over the Jungfrau with the even- 
ing sunset. We were fortunate in striking excellent 
weather. Sometimes visitors find only clouds and rain 
at Interlaken, with the Jungfrau veiling her face from 
morning to night; but our days there were perfect, with 
the Jungfrau ever beautiful and glorious. Great wooded 
mountain ranges come together in front of Interlaken, 
and in a gap between two lofty ranges, back of them, 

179 



Brienz — 
Interlaken 

Hoheweg 




Avalanche, 
Jungfrau. 
First Stage. 



European looms up the Jungfrau, 13,640 feet high, and snowclad 
Days and from base to summit, all pink and crimson and purple at 
Ways sunset. This is the chief thing to see at Interlaken, and 
indeed it is well worth seeing. The Hoheweg is the 
great promenade at Interlaken. It faces the Jungfrau, 
and all day long is thronged with tourists, gazing at the 
Jungfrau or discussing it, armed with glasses and guide- 
books, and at eventide, when the "Alpen-glow" sifts 
down over it, the Jungfrau is indeed something superb 
and glorious. 

One afternoon we took a carriage, and drove to 
Unterseen — an old suburb of Interlaken, at the far end 
of it. This consists chiefly of old wooden houses of the 
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, with an old church and 
tower, 1385. There are some new Swiss houses here 
of stone. and cement; but they are chiefly old, and of 
boards and timber quaintly carved. The houses and 
barns are all under the same roof, or with a connecting 
roof, as usual everywhere in Switzerland, and indicating 
severe winters. Old walnut-trees are all about Inter- 
laken, many of them hundreds of years old, and they 
constitute quite a feature of the place. A few of the 
women still wear their old Swiss costumes, with black 
velvet bodices, silver ornaments, silver chains, etc. But 
the Swiss of that kind are fast passing away. 

Of course, there is no comparison between Inter- 
laken and Lucerne in general. Lucerne, indeed, quite 
surpasses Interlaken in beauty, her views are so exten- 
sive and varied. But, then, Lucerne has no Hoheweg 
and Jungfrau, and upon these Interlaken specially 
plumes herself; and well she may. 

Next we climbed up to Miirren, above the clouds, at 
180 



the foot of the Jungfrau, Monch, and Eiger, in order 
to see these great mountains and their comrades face 
to face. We went first by railroad, and then by "rack- 
and-pinion" road up a wooded mountain valley, with a 
wild Alpine torrent foaming by our side, to Lauter- 
brunnen, and then by cable road abruptly up the moun- 
tain side, and then by electric road along the mountain 
to Miirren. At Lauterbrunnen — which means noth- 
ing but springs — there are springs and waterfalls 
everywhere; but 
the finest is the 
Staubbach ("Dust 
Brook"), which 
descends by a 
single leap nine 
hundred and 
eighty feet, and is 
converted mostly 
into mist before 
reaching the 
ground, wafted to 
and fro by the breeze like a silvery veil. Thence up to 
Miirren you continue to ascend, until you get nearly 
six thousand feet up into the sky, with Alpine peaks and 
ranges all about you; not only the Jungfrau, Monch, 
and Eiger, but the Wetterhorn, the Schneehorn, the 
Silberhorn, the Mittaghorn, the Grosshorn, the Breit- 
horn, the Tchingelhorn, the Gspaltenhorn, and ever so 
many more unpronounceable "horns" also. The most 
of these are snowclad the year round, or icebound, with 
glittering and contorted glaciers crawling down their 
valleys and ravines. Ever and anon a snowfall or an 

181 



The Jungfrau 
Murren 
Lauter- 
brunnen 




Avalanche, 
Jungfrau. 
Second 
Stage. 



European 

Days and 

Ways 



avalanche breaks loose, even as you gaze, and thunders 
down into the valley beneath you. 

We stopped at the Hotel des Alpes, on the very 
brink of the mountain at Miirren, and spent Sunday, 
July 30th, there. Here is one of the finest views in the 
Bernese Oberland, and I doubt if there is anything 

better in Switzerland. The Jung- 
frau, Monch, and Eiger are 
right before you — you seem to 
be standing in their august 
presence, and tempted to lift 
your hat involuntarily — while 
their comrade peaks stretch all 
around you, like a serrated and 
silver crown. Great valleys yawn 
at your feet, like gaps into the 
very bowels of the earth. The 
air is so clear you may see miles 
away, and so pure you may catch 
the tinkle of cowbells from the 
very foot of the snow-fields, or 
hear men talking a mile or more 
away. Buttercups, bluebells, and 
daisies, of a reduced size, grow 
On the q U ite up to the glaciers, and herds of cows graze there all 
summer. Over it all is God's blue and bending sky, like 
an arch of beauty and omnipotence, and it is a mean soul 
that can not bow down to him there in reverence and 
worship. How grand and sublime it all is, there are no 
words to express. You must go and see for yourself; 
nobody else can see it for you; and even then you won't 
see it, unless you have eyes to see. 

182 




Glacier. 



We rose early Sunday morning to see the sun rise Sunday at 
over the Jungfrau, but it was disappointing — clouds all Mlirren — 
about it. But afterwards the clouds disappeared, sank The Alpen= 
down into the valley, and all day long we had paradise fllOW 
up there at Miirren. At evening we had the "Alpen- 
glow" all over the mountains, like a crimson veil let 
down from heaven; and what more could we ask? We 
worshiped, in the morning, in a little English church 
not far from our hotel, and found it crowded with 
tourists. Its rector came from London for the summer, 
under the auspices of the "Society for the Propagation 
of the Gospel in Foreign Parts/' and gave us a sensible 
discourse. But few Swiss attended; they were busy 
about their hotels, pensions, and shops. In the way- 
side booths girls were knitting lace and making sales 
of carved wood, as on other days, and the Sabbath did 
not seem to get up to Miirren much, especially after 
noon. 

How Miirren exists, it would be difficult to say. 
Yet here it is, a village of several hundred people in 
the midst of the Alps, right up by the snow-line, and 
has been there for years. For eight or nine months in 
the year it is utterly cut off from the outside world by 
snow and ice. Occasionally, trips may be made on 
snowshoes and with alpenstocks, in cases of necessity; 
but that is all. Its young and active people descend 
into the valleys in autumn, and find work there in winter, 
but the rest hibernate at Miirren, and care for their 
cows, make lace, shoes, etc. In summer, of course, 
they all live upon the tourists, many of them as guides. 
These last are stocky, athletic fellows, accustomed from 
their youth to hunt the chamois and climb the glaciers 

183 



European and precipices, and, with their alpenstocks and hob- 
DayS and nailed shoes, are ready to take you anywhere at about 
Ways five dollars a day, refreshments extra. Not a high price, 
all things considered. 

The next day we descended to Lauterbrunnen again, 
and climbed thence to Scheidegg, by "rack-and-pinion" 
and electric roads again. It was a slow process; but 
the mountains were all about us, with superb views con- 
stantly, and we reached Scheidegg at last. Here we 

were at the very 
foot of the great 
glaciers that 
come down from 
the Jungfrau, 
Monch, and 
Eiger, and about 
a thousand feet 
higher up in the 
sky than at Mur- 
ren. We could 
walk out on the 
glacier, and take a sled or sleigh ride across it, as some of 
us did. We could see and hear the snowfalls and ava- 
lanches thundering down to the valleys. We had a game 
of snowball, and then returned to Scheidegg for lunch in 
a crowded restaurant. Here were a few Americans and 
English; but the large majority were Germans and Aus- 
trians. Indeed, Germans swarmed everywhere in Switzer- 
land — students and lawyers from Berlin, ministers and 
professors from Breslau and Leipsic, and Hans and 
Gretchen the bride from everywhere. Usually they 
traveled light, with only a knapsack or handbag and 

184 




Swiss 
Chalets, 
Murren. 



alpenstock, and patronized only the cheaper hotels and SGheide(}(J- 
pensions; but they took the scenery in, all the same, as GlflGierS 
the English nabobs and American millionaires, and Germans 
saved half their money. After waiting half an hour, 
we got a seat at a table with a German couple from 
Berlin, and secured a satisfactory meal. They spoke a 
little English, and we a little German, and so we got on 
capitally together. He was a young lawyer, and she 
a very beautiful and attractive lady, and we parted with 
mutual esteem and regret. A German banker whom 
we also encountered there spoke English well, had been 
to New York and beyond, and admired America, but 
feared we could not raise the soldiers needed or stand 
the cost of the Philippine war. "Why," I answered, 
"we have only about sixty thousand men in the Philip- 
pines, and during our great Civil War we used to have 
a million men under arms, and the South nearly as 
many more. So, it is only costing us about $200,000,000 
a year, and we used to spend ten times that, or more, 
on both sides. Since then we have doubled in popula- 
tion and resources, have nearly eighty million popula- 
tion; and if Germany, with only about fifty million, can 
keep a standing army of five hundred thousand men, 
why can't America keep sixty thousand or one hundred 
thousand temporarily, if necessary, without feeling it 
greatly? Only a 'flea-bite,' my friend — only a 'flea-bite' 
for Uncle Sam — depend upon it !" He opened his eyes 
a little, but continued to shake his head. Like all the 
Germans we met, he was still thinking of Manila Bay, 
and lamenting Germany did not acquire the Philip- 



pines ! 



While lunching and resting here, a great herd of 

185 



European cows, hundreds of them, all with tinkling cowbells, came 
Days and grazing by on their way to another pasture, and for 
Ways the first time we saw the Swiss cows in large numbers. 
In the lower valleys and towns we saw very few of 
them, and wondered where all the milk and cheese 
came from. But early in the summer the Swiss drive 
their cows to the mountains, where they graze along 
the snow-line in great herds until autumn, and then 
gradually feed their way down into the valleys again. 
Meanwhile every foot of grass in the lower valleys is 
mowed twice over, and carefully stacked away for their 
long winter's use. Hence their very name of "Alps" 
suggests to them mountain pastures. 

Late in the afternoon we descended to Grindelwald, 
by "rack-arid-pinion" road, winding around the base 
of the Eiger and through vast cow-pastures, and got 
down to about three thousand feet again. Here is a 
beautiful and secluded little valley, well sheltered and 
mild for the Alpine region, with gigantic mountains 
around it, and splendid hotels in the midst of it. We 
found the climate warmer than Scheidegg or Miirren, 
and spent a delightful evening there. We took a long 
stroll through the town (it has about three thousand 
inhabitants) after dining, and could well believe it to 
be a favorite resort for English people. At our hotel 
we met two brave English girls, who were walking 
through the Alps alone. They traveled light, with only 
an alpenstock and a handbag each, sending their lug- 
gage on by express. They had walked that day, by 
wild mountain-paths, from Miirren to Scheidegg, and 
from Scheidegg to Grindelwald, about fourteen miles, 
and expected to walk on to Meiringen the next day, 

1 86 



eighteen miles farther, and the following day to Lucerne Grindelwald 
via the Briinig Pass, some twenty miles more. They Switzerland 
showed no fatigue, but ate a hearty dinner, and looked Oil FOOt 
fresh and chubby as German cherries or Rubens's god- 
desses. They expressed no fear, and said they had 
everywhere met with only kindness and courtesy. These 
were only typical English girls, and others like them 
appear everywhere in Switzerland. So, parties of men, 
by twos and fours, and a gentleman and lady alone, 
are often seen "doing" Switzerland on foot, and they 
get amply repaid by their leisurely sight-seeing and 
improved health, as well as greater economy. But, 
then, it takes time, and time is more than money to us 
Americans in haste. 



i8 7 




Chapter XV 

|HE next morning, August ist, we returned 
to Interlaken, over the same route we as- 
cended to Lauterbrunnen mainly, and, after 
a brief stop at Interlaken, proceeded on to 
Berne. Our route lay down the northerly shore of the 
Lake of Thun, and, when once we got out of the moun- 
tains, ran through an open and well-cultivated country 
to Berne. There were large fields, and fine farms, and 
good farm-buildings, with the Alps in the distance, and 
everything indicated prosperity and thrift. In our com- 
partment we had a Maine lady, who had left Boston 
July 20th, and was due back there, she said, September 
20th; that is to say, she was going to "do" Europe in 
sixty days ! She had been post-haste to Venice and 
Milan, and was now on her way back through Switzer- 
land, Germany, and France to England, and so home 
again. She was alone, and gave her days to sight- 
seeing and her nights to traveling, and really was ac- 
complishing a great deal. She seemed to be a gov- 
erness or schoolteacher, on the wrong side of fifty, but 
active and canny, and resolved to see Europe for her- 
self; and I guess she did it! Her luggage consisted of 
a handbag, and she was as "independent as a journey- 
man woodsawyer." Afterwards we encountered her in 

1 88 



Berne, doing the city with rapidity and intelligence, and 
she needed no male guide or courier, either. 

Berne, the capital of Switzerland, is a goodly city 
of fifty thousand inhabitants, and seemed prosperous 
and thriving. It is an old town, dating back to 1191, 
with old churches and cathedrals, but has much of 
modernity about it also. Its old cathedral, or Munster, 
a fine late-Gothic structure, was begun in 1421, and it 
took nearly two centuries to complete it. From the 
cathedral terrace, 
in fine weather, 
you get the most 
extensive pano- 
rama of the Ber- 
nese Alps in the 
Oberland. Its 
museums also are 
rich in paintings 
and armor, and in 
minerals and fos- 
sils, and its fed- 
eral or national buildings are fine specimens of the 
Florentine style, with a stately-domed edifice in the 
middle not yet completed, resembling somewhat our 
National Capitol at Washington. When done, Switzer- 
land will have a National Capitol not unworthy of the 
Alpine Republic. Berne has some broad avenues and 
streets, well built upon, and her bridges and suburbs 
are really handsome. She has electric lights and tram- 
ways, or street railroads, everywhere, operated by com- 
pressed air, and she utilizes the river Aar for this pur- 
pose, which flows around her rocky peninsula like a 

189 



Berne 




Berne. 



European 

Days and 

Ways 



Ogre Foun- 
tain, Berne. 



mill-race, and turns the great wheels that compress 
the air. 

On the other hand, Berne retains more mediaeval 
features than any other city in Switzerland. In the old 
part of the town her streets are flanked by low arcades, 
which form covered ways for foot-passengers; good in 

bad weather, but which make 
her shops dark and gloomy. In 
the middle of her old streets are 
numerous fountains, quaint and 
curious, many of them dating 
back to the sixteenth century. 
One is called the Bagpiper Foun- 
tain, surmounted by the figure 
of a man playing on bagpipes, 
and with water gushing from all 
his pipes. Another is called the 
Archer Fountain, with an an- 
cient archer shooting, and the 
water gushing from his weapons. 
Another represents Samson and 
the Philistines. Another is 
called the Ogre Fountain, and 
consists of a gigantic ogre, with 
children bursting from all his pockets, while he is try- 
ing to swallow two or three, with water spouting every- 
where. In the heart of the town, but on what was once 
its western gate, is an ancient clock several feet in 
diameter, which announces the hour by the crowing of 
a cock, while, just before it strikes, a troop of bears 
march in procession around a sitting figure. The bear 
is the heraldic emblem of Berne, and is indeed the 

190 




tutelar saint and guardian angel of all Switzerland, as 
the cowbell is its popular symbol. Bears and cowbells, 
large and small, carved and painted, are everywhere in 
evidence and everywhere for sale, as mementos of Switz- 
erland. In the heart of Berne is a great bear-pit, safe- 
guarded by stone walls and iron railings, where a family 
of bears has been maintained at 
the public expense from time im- 
memorial — over seven hundred 
years. You may throw them 
bread and fruit, which they will 
seize and devour eagerly. But 
"Beware of Bruin !" 

We stopped at the Schweizer 
Hof, in the heart of the city, 
and found good accommoda- 
tions at moderate rates. We 
rambled and rode all over Berne, 
and found it a much better place 
than we anticipated. We left 
there the next day toward noon 
via Zurich for Lake Constance 
and Lindau. One seldom sees a 
finer country than we had the 
whole way. It is the agricultural heart of Switzerland, 
and a fine farming region it is, and well tilled. It was 
in the midst of their haying-time and grain-harvest, and 
men, women, and children were everywhere at work in 
the fields. They have abandoned the sickle, but still 
cut their grass and grain with an old-fashioned scythe. 
We did not see a grain-cradle, and but one or two mow- 
ing-machines in all Switzerland; not a single reaper and 

191 



Berne — 
Fountains 
Bear-Pit 




Clock 

Tower, 

Berne. 



European binder. Their grain-fields were small, often only two 
Days and or three acres; mere patches, like gardens more fre- 
WayS quently. But their grass-fields were large, and, indeed, 
hay is the chief crop of Switzerland everywhere. They 
cut two crops a season, and husband it carefully for their 
long winters. In May they drive their splendid cows 
up into the Alps, and graze them quite up to the snow- 
line, insuring good grass and water, and make butter 
and cheese there. In October they bring them home 
again, and house and feed them until spring. Mean- 
while they mow the whole country-side and lower 
mountains over, and gather every handful of grass every- 
where for winter use. 

We saw old Swiss chalets everywhere, but new and 
improved ones too, with great Swiss barns, etc., all 
included under the same roof and all indicative of pros- 
perity; but no fences anywhere worth mentioning. 
The Swiss are too shrewd to waste -money and labor 
in that way. So, also, we found new factories building 
in all this part of Switzerland, for watches, clocks, silks, 
lace, linen, cloth, and not even New England seems 
more industrious and thrifty. 

Zurich is an even better city than Berne, has one 
hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, and is the finan- 
cial and business center of Switzerland. It is on a lake 
of the same name, and has a railroad station, hotels, 
banks, and manufactories worthy of a larger place. It 
is the most modern and progressive city in Switzerland, 
and its university is already world-renowned, and a great 
credit to little Switzerland. 

And so we passed out of Switzerland by Lake Con- 
stance, with delightful recollections of her mountains 

192 



and lakes, and with a hearty admiration of her people SwiSS 
and government. The Swiss have well been called "the Farmers 
Yankees of Europe," and they are certainly the most Zurich 
like Americans of any people we saw on the Continent. Government 
A hard-working, frugal, religious, brave, kindly race, 
they have made the most of their environment through 
all the past, and still set a good example to mankind. 
They have a little country, only about twice the size 
of New Jersey, and half of that rocks and mountains; 
but they have over three times its population. They 
have twenty-two cantons against New Jersey's twenty- 
one counties, each one about twice the size of our aver- 
age county. But they pay their President, usually a good 
one, only $1,500 a year, while New Jersey pays her 
governor $10,000 a year, and our President, not always 
a good one, receives $50,000 and extras. 

We did not see a tramp or beggar in all Switzerland, 
nor meet with a drunkard; but everybody and every- 
thing was at work, intelligently and industriously. As 
a hotel clerk said to me, "We Swiss are not afraid to 
work, and, if we can't find what we want, we take what 
we can get !" The women were at work in the fields 
gathering hay, wheat, rye, and barley with the men, 
and even the children were knitting lace and stockings, 
while they waited to sell wood-carvings. They put 
everything into harness, and make it earn its living, 
from their rivers to their great St. Bernard dogs; their 
rivers, by turning motors and developing electricity, 
by which they run their mountain railroads and light 
their cities and towns; their dogs, by helping to draw 
their milk and bread carts and market-wagons, har- 
nessed up with a man or woman. They run their toy 
13 193 



European railroads up and down their mountains and valleys, and 
DdyS and along the edge of dizzy cliffs and precipices, where a 
Ways chamois almost would be afraid to venture. They were 
constructing one up to the summit of the Jungfrau 
when we were there, and another up Mont Blanc, blast- 
ing and tunneling through perpetual snow and ice and 
rock, and expected to get there soon, and make them 
pay, too; and they were doing it chiefly by harnessing 
and using their rushing and otherwise useless moun- 
tain torrents, as a rule. Clearly an honest, intelligent, 
enterprising race, these Swiss are. 

They believe in the schoolhouse and the church. 
You will find these side by side, or at least not far apart, 
everywhere, as in New England; not always a Protestant 
church either, but often a liberalized Catholic church, 
which the Swiss have discovered how to curb and reg- 
ulate. Some of their cantons are Protestant and others 
Catholic, but perfect toleration is everywhere. Every 
Swiss boy has to go to school and learn his rights and 
duties, and get ready for them; and every Swiss girl,, 
too. Primary education is free, both books and tui- 
tion. But there is a small charge for high schools, col- 
leges, and universities. The finest modern buildings 
in Lucerne, Interlaken, Berne, and Zurich, after the 
great hotels, are the schoolhouses and universities. It 
was a canny old Swiss who said, "Our people all vote, 
and hence our masters must be educated !" Good pol- 
itics, this, for every American city and State, too. 

They have no army in Switzerland. Their little 
Republic needs none. It rests upon intelligence and 
integrity — not bayonets. In Italy officers and soldiers 
swarmed everywhere. But we did not see a soldier 

194 



in Switzerland, except a few squads of national guards- The SwiSS 
men en route to their rendezvous for drill and discipline. Their Army 
But they practice rifle-shooting at home, and keep a LfllKJUdge 
skilled and alert modern staff, up-to-date in everything 
relating to the art of war; and when it comes to actual 
fighting, Switzerland has always given a good account 
of herself, from the days of William Tell and Arnold 
von Winkelreid, and doubtless will do so hereafter. 

But, singularly, they have no national language; 
rather they are Italian, French, and German. All three 
of these languages are spoken in their National Con- 
gress, and they keep official interpreters there to explain 
their public speeches one to another, and their laws 
are printed in all three languages. One would sup- 
pose that they had been a Republic so long (since 1292) 
that they would have unified into one people and one 
speech by this time. But they are of different race 
stocks, in their different cantons, and their mountains 
have kept them separate, except for national purposes. 
They celebrated the six hundred and seventh anniver- 
sary of their independence, their Fourth of July, while 
we were at Berne, with the ringing of bells and public 
rejoicing, and feeding of the bears, all over Switzer- 
land; and may the plucky little Republic, now modeled 
largely on our own, live to celebrate twice that, and 
more ! 

At Romanshorn we struck Lake Constance — or 
Bodensee, as the Germans call it — and took a little 
steamer for Lindau and Bavaria. Lake Constance is 
forty miles long by seven or eight wide, and, while not 
so picturesque as the Swiss lakes, is yet larger than 
any of them. Its banks are flat, but the Appenzell 

195 



European Alps and Voralberg Alps, with several snow-peaks in 
Days and the distance, lend variety to the scenery, and the ride 
Ways across to Lindau was a pleasant ending to our day's 
journey. Sometimes the lake is a little rough; but it 
was placid as a mill-pond the day we crossed, and the 
sunset was charming. We reached Lindau just at dusk, 
and entered its little harbor, with its colossal marble 
Lion, twenty feet high, on a granite pedestal thirty- 
three feet high, sitting upon its haunches, and "keep- 
ing watch and ward" over its narrow entrance, and, 
passing the custom-house without difficulty, found good 
quarters for the night at the Bayerischer Hof, an ex- 



cellent hotel fronting on the lake. 



196 




Chapter XVI 

IINDAU is a little town of some five thou- Lake 
sand inhabitants, that seems to have retro- COflStdllGe 
graded rather than advanced. It was once LlIKulU 
an imperial town and fortress, and in the 
Middle Ages was a thriving commercial emporium, but 
now is known chiefly as the terminus of the Bavarian 
Railway, en route to Switzerland, via Lake Constance. 
It is also said to have been the site of an ancient Roman 
fort, and they show you an old well and tower there, 
with parti-colored tiles, which they say date back to 
old Roman days. In the Reichsplatz is an old Rath- 
haus, erected 1422, with frescoed facades and an inter- 
esting collection of antiquities, and it has some queer 
old houses and streets, that remind one of Southern 
Italy. The best part of Lindau now seems to be along 
the lake front. There are several hotels here that look 
inviting, and there is a curious old tower that may have 
been anything from a prison to a lighthouse, though 
nobody could tell us exactly what. It looks ancient 
enough to be a thousand years old; but we could learn 
little about it. Off on the lake, gulls were soaring and 
swooping, as at sea, or as if they had mistaken Lake 
Constance for a bit of the ocean. 

We only stopped at Lindau over night, and the 
next morning (August 3d) left for Bregenz and the 

197 



European Austrian Tyrol. At Bregenz we entered Austria, and 
Days and had to pass the custom-house again, as we did at 
Ways Lindau the evening before (only a few miles apart), 
but had no trouble. Indeed, European custom officers, 
as a rule, are very sensible and polite, and seldom mis- 
take real travelers for passing smugglers. Here at 
Bregenz we entered the Austrian Tyrol, and all day 
long had a most interesting and charming ride through 
the narrow valleys and up the lofty mountains of that 

wonderful region. 
The railroad as- 
cends the begin- 
nings of the 
Rhine, and fol- 
1 o w s its tribu- 
taries up into the 
Tyrolean Alps, by 
rock-cuttings and, 
tunnels, and 
finally crossing 
the "divide," 
The strikes the headwaters of the River Inn and descends its 
Lindau' picturesque and romantic valley to Innsbruck. We had 
intended to stop near the summit, and spend the night 
there, but continued on to Innsbruck instead, and were 
glad we did, from what we afterwards heard of the 
hotels there. 

This ride through the Tyrol was everything lovely 
and beautiful; no, grand and sublime rather ! The Tyro- 
lean Alps towered about us, not so lofty as the Swiss 
Alps, but often with snowclad summits, and seeming 
everywhere to uplift and prop the very sky. The 

198 




weather was perfect, though a little warm in the middle BretjeilZ — 
of the day, and the intense blue of the sky reminded The Tyrol 
one of Italy or America. The narrow valleys, as if cut 
out with a knife — usually a quarter to a half mile wide 
or less — were cultivated to the utmost with rye, wheat, 
and barley, though grass was the main crop. This 
grew everywhere luxuriantly and away up on the moun- 
tain sides, and the Tyrolese, both men and women were 
everywhere busy cutting and gathering it. In many 
places the fields were too steep for wagons, or carts 
even, and here they used sleds, or carried the hay down 
into the villages on their backs, as we had seen them 
do in Switzerland. They live chiefly in villages (each 
with its toy church) for good company's sake, and go 
down along the valleys or up among the mountains 
to their work and return, though there are scattered 
chalets here and there. Their chalets and barns were 
mostly roofed with large shingles without nails, but held 
down by rows of great stones or rocks and timbers, 
as in Switzerland also, as a safeguard against the winter 
winds, which are often wild and tempestuous here, as 
in Switzerland. The newer ones, however, were roofed 
with heavy red tiles or small, well-nailed shingles, and 
lacked the rocks and stones — which would seem to ex- 
plode the old story that all Swiss and Tyrolese roofs 
are anchored down by rocks. 

As you get out of the mountains, down towards 
Innsbruck, the valley of the Inn widens out, and here 
are fine farms and towns again, with plenty of wheat, 
rye, barley, and Indian corn even, growing in the fields. 
The roads are everywhere splendid, winding in and out 
and over the great mountains, bridging the swift tor- 

199 



European rents, and evidencing good engineering talent by some- 
DayS and body. Little churches clot the country, and wayside 
Ways crosses and shrines, with rude representations of Christ 
on the cross, everywhere abound. In the valley of the 
Inn I counted six of these in one mile, and we seemed 
never out of sight of at least one or more. Clearly these 
Tyrolese are a devout and religious people, and an in- 
dustrious, prosperous, and gallant people. Tall, hardy, 
and athletic, they seem like our Rocky Mountain and 

Western people 
over again. 

At Innsbruck, 
the capital of the 
Tyrol, we stopped 
at the Hotel Eu- 
rope, and found 
an old and inter- 
e s t i n g city of 
thirty thousand 
population, ap- 
parently busy and 
well-to-do. It dates back to old Roman days and be- 
fore, and has long been the main gateway from Italy 
into Germany, via Verona. Half of the Tyrol is Italian, 
and we met constant reminders of Italian ways, in 
paintings, furniture, customs, and names. The lofty 
Bavarian Alps with their silvery crests come quite down 
to Innsbruck on the north, and shelter it from the 
winter winds, while the Brenner gives the south wind 
free passage up from Italy. Hence the climate is not 
unduly cold in winter, nor unduly hot in summer, while 
its scenery is superb. 

200 




IN THE 

Tyrol, 
Snapshot. 



It is a university town, and its libraries and museums IlMSbrilGk — ■ 
are well worth visiting. Its Ferdinandeum or National Old Buildings 
Museum, named after its first patron, Ferdinand I, is 
a fine structure, and its collections well illustrate the 
history, characteristics, and culture of the Tyrol. They 
include not only the works of native artists, but those 
also of foreign masters, and in archaeology, ethnography, 
and mineralogy, are quite full and interesting for a place 
like Innsbruck. 

We went first to the Maria Theresa Arch and Street, 
with its superb view of the Bavarian Alps to the north, 
and walked by its handsome shops down to the Hof- 
gasse with its genuine mediaeval aspects. Here were 
old arcades, more antique even than those at Berne, 
and the Golden Roof, a late-Gothic oriel house, whose 
roof is covered with tiles of gilded bronze, erected 1500. 
Near by are other old houses and palaces, frescoed on 
the outside, and built in 1234. In this quarter, too, 
are old inns — three on opposite corners, the Golden 
Lion, the Red Eagle, and the Golden Chamois — and the 
streets are so narrow you may almost shake hands 
across them. Not far off, on the Herzof Friedrich- 
strasse, stands the old Stadtthurm — a tall old stone 
prison and clock tower, with a belfry above it that af- 
fords a fine view from its upper balcony, and which 
looks more ancient than it really is. In the old Market 
Square were peasants in old Tyrolean costumes, quaint 
and picturesque, and their one-horse mountain wagons, 
with only one thill instead of two, seemed peculiar to 
Innsbruck and the Tyrol. Some of their city carriages 
had only one thill in the same way. 

Innsbruck has also several nice churches, but none 
201 



European of much interest except the old Franciscan Church, or 
Days and Hofkirche, which has well been called the Tyrolean 
Ways Westminster. This was erected 1 553-1 563 by the Em- 
peror Ferdinand I, of Austria, in memory of his grand- 
father, the Emperor Maximilian I, both Hapsburgs. 
This old church is world-renowned as containing the 
splendid tomb of Maximilian, though, singularly, Maxi- 
milian himself is not buried here. It is surrounded 
by twenty-eight colossal bronze statues of heroes and 
kings who have had some connection with the House 
of Hapsburg, real or fanciful. They are all in ancient 
armor, of different styles and merit, but two of them 
(Arthur of England and Theodoric the Goth) are of 
unusual excellence and beauty. The tomb itself is sur- 
mounted by a statue of the emperor, and figures of the 
four cardinal virtues, all in exquisite bronze, while its 
sides are ornamented by marble reliefs representing 
scenes from the life of Maximilian. 

Near by is the statue of Andreas Hofer, the George 
Washington of the Tyrol, carved in Tyrolean marble, 
with his two lieutenants, Joseph Speckbacher and 
Joachim Haspinger (his soldier-priest) lying by his side, 
with the simple inscription, "From a grateful Father- 
land to the sons who perished in the patriotic wars. 
1838." To an American, and all lovers of liberty, this 
simple monument speaks more loudly than the elaborate 
tomb of Maximilian; for Andreas Hofer, the Tyrolean 
innkeeper, was a pure patriot and gallant soldier, and 
deserved a better fate than to be betrayed by a traitor 
and shot to death with musketry by a gasconading 
Frenchman, who could not conquer him in a square 
fight, nor capture him except by gold. 

202 



You go upstairs by a marble staircase, and reach the The Hof- 
Silver Chapel, so called from a silver image of the Virgin KirGhe 
Mary, presented by Archduke Ferdinand, regent of Hofer 
Tyrol (1563-95). Here are beautiful tombs of the arch- 
duke and his first wife, the lovely Philippine Welser, and 
others, and before the altar kneels a life-sized bronze 
figure of the archduke himself in full armor, his hands 
folded in prayer. All these are exquisitely done and 
executed, mostly by Tyrolean artists, and they speak 
well for Innsbruck and the Tyrol. 

Afterwards we wandered down to the City Park 
stretching along the Inn, with enormous old plane- 
trees and pines, and secluded walks and drives, and 
then wended our way back to the Hotel Europe in time 
for a late lunch. Altogether we had seen a good deal 
of Innsbruck in a brief stay, and came away with de- 
lightful impressions of the old place. It seemed busi- 
ness-like and prosperous much beyond what we ex- 
pected, and we were only sorry we could not stay longer 
and see more of it. 



203 




Chapter XVII 

jE left Innsbruck August 4th, after lunch, 
and arrived at Munich the same afternoon. 
It is only a four hours' ride, and after you 
get out of the mountains is mainly across 
a wide, level plain, reminding one of the approach to 
Milan or Chicago. At Rosenheim you pass a thriv- 
ing city of several thousand people, and at Roabling 
are reminded of our American Roebling, who built the 
Brooklyn Bridge, the Niagara Bridge, and others, the 
name is so much alike, though our Roebling was a 
Prussian. The whole country seemed highly cultivated, 
and grass and grain of all kinds were being harvested; 
no patent mowers or reapers and binders, however, but 
the sickle and scythe were in use everywhere, and 
women at work in the fields with the men, raking, bind- 
ing, pitching on hay and wheat, and holding their own 
with the men. A very industrious, hard-working, 
frugal people, these Bavarian Germans seemed to be, 
with many signs of prosperity and progress. 

Our fellow-passengers were mostly Germans, who 
had been down to Switzerland on their vacation. In 
our own compartment we had two German ladies from 
Breslau. They did not show up much in dress, but 
were well-bred and agreeable. They knew just a little 
English, and we just a little German, but it was aston- 

204 



ishing how well we got on together. Of course, they Munich — - 
knew us to be Americans at once; all Europeans always German 
do. One of them said her father, many years before, LddiGS 
had written a Life of George Washington, and this, of 
course, put us on a friendly footing from the start. She 
also said her brother had been an officer in the Franco- 
German War, and was now a professor in the university 
at Breslau, from which we concluded she was of some 
social standing. From this we branched out into a 
hundred questions, literary, artistic, social, and religious, 
and by dint of pantomime and guesswords, as well as 
language, carried on a three hours' conversation nearly. 
We parted at Munich with real regret, they going on 
to Baden-Baden. 

Munich itself is a smart city of five hundred thousand 
people, with American straight streets and broad ave- 
nues, and we saw more new buildings erected and being 
erected there than in all Italy, except Genoa and Milan. 
It is the capital of Bavaria, and though Bavaria is now 
merged into Greater Germany, Munich still maintains 
its significance and importance. It lies seven hundred 
feet above the sea, with the Alps bounding its horizon, 
but it is a hot place in August, nevertheless. It is well 
sewered and well paved with Belgian blocks and asphalt, 
but has no shade-trees along the streets, and conse- 
quently the sun just blazes there on hot days. They had 
good shade-trees there once, so they said; but one of 
her mad kings cut them down or pulled them up, be- 
cause they obstructed the view of some of the fine pal- 
aces and other buildings he had erected, and these are 
not so "fine," after all, that one cares to see much of 
them. 

205 



European There are some good churches and fine galleries and 
Days and museums here — the Pinakothek, both old and new, the 
Ways Glyptothek, and the National Museum — but they seem 
indifferent after seeing Italy. Munich, however, is a 
good place to study Rubens, Van Dyck, Rembrandt, 
and the Dutch and Flemish masters, and there are some 
landscapes here by Claude Lorraine that are really 
charming. But the gems of the Munich galleries, to my 
mind, are a half dozen exquisite Murillos, representing 
"Beggar Boys at Seville" eating fruit or playing dice, 
and a score or more of genre paintings by Dow and 
Teniers of scenes in humble life in Holland and Ger- 
many. These are so touching and lifelike they almost 
seem to speak to you, and to move one to laughter or to 
tears involuntarily. There is also an "Assumption" by 
Guido Reni that is good, but far inferior to Titian's at 
Venice. There is a whole roomful of pictures by Ru- 
bens; but his fair and fat beauties — both women and 
children, Madonnas and goddesses — did not interest us. 
The Glyptothek, however, is a gallery of statuary 
well worth seeing. It contains fine specimens of As- 
syrian, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, and Etruscan art, and 
reflects credit on Munich and Bavaria. So, also, the 
royal palace, with its splendid rooms, gorgeous furnish- 
ings, inlaid tables, rare and costly vases, and Niebelun- 
gen frescoes, is impressive, and the royal stables, with 
their handsome horses, magnificent coaches, sleighs, and 
harness, interest one somewhat. But artistically and 
aesthetically they do not compare with like places at 
Florence and Rome, and such lavish waste of other peo- 
ple's money disgusts you more than ever with kings and 
monarchies. You do n't wonder that Bavaria has be- 

206 



come noted for its mad kings, and you do wonder how MlMlGll — 
the people have stood such royal humbugs so long. Beer 

Munich is also quite celebrated for its theaters and 
music halls, but it was too hot to see much of them. It 
abounds in monuments and public squares, and seems 
to have much civic pride. Its suburbs are fast building 
up with new and handsome residences, and we saw 
women here "tending masons," carrying brick and mor- 
tar in handbarrows up long platforms, not a hodcarrier 
about. It has a fine city park of six hundred acres, called 
the "English Garden," with superb old trees, and wat- 
ered by two arms of the Isar, and the walks and drives 
here are very charming in summer. We spent a morn- 
ing here on a hot August day, and were delighted with 
its cool and umbrageous retreats. 

The chief industry of Munich, however, seems to be 
beer. It makes and drinks vast quantities of this Ba- 
varian beer, and exports it all over Europe, and indeed 
everywhere. They claim it to be the best beer in the 
world, and everybody in Munich drinks and thinks beer 
— men, women, and children. It is only fair to add, it 
does not seem to be so intoxicating as American beer 
(we did not see a drunken man in Munich), but how they 
can consume such vast quantities of it surprises an Amer- 
ican, and must result in ill effects sooner or later. The 
rich men of Munich, and her chief citizens, are her brew- 
ers. Her money-making and busy places are her beer- 
cellars and beer-gardens. And to speak of Munich with- 
out mentioning her beer, would be "like the play of 
Hamlet with the part of Hamlet omitted." Her Hof- 
brauhaus, a vast beer hall in the heart of the city, is one 
of the sights of Munich, and here thousands of her citi- 

207 



European zens of all classes may be seen of an evening, men, 
Days and women, and children, quaffing their beer, and enjoying 
Ways the excellent music, while every good German, of course, 
smokes. Munich enjoys the proud distinction of con- 
suming more beer per head than any other city in Ger- 
many, and so in the world. Germany drinks annually 
sixty-one million hektoliters of beer, which means 235 
liters per head in Bavaria and 206 liters per head in 
Berlin. Munich, however, drinks 566 liters per head 
annually, Frankfort 428, and Nuremberg 421. A "liter" 
is a quart and something over. So that Munich drinks 
over a quart and a half per day for every man, woman, 
and child there. One of these days, let us hope, she will 
find a better business and a humaner industry. 

We spent a Sunday at Munich, but could find no 
English service, after considerable hunting; all closed 
for the summer. Instead we went to St. Peter's, the 
oldest Roman Catholic Church in Munich (1170), and 
to the Frauenkirche, or Church of our Lady, on or near 
the Marienplatz, in the heart of old Munich. The latter 
is the cathedral of the Archbishopric of Munich and 
Freising, built, 1468, of brick, with two uncompleted 
towers, each three hundred and eighteen feet high, and 
with many ancient tombstones on the outside walls. It 
has handsome stained-glass windows of the fifteenth and 
sixteenth centuries, and rich carved woodwork of the 
Coronation of the Madonna, of the apostles and proph- 
ets, and costly bronze and marble monuments of Ba- 
varian kings and princes, but, on the whole, lacks sym- 
metry and beauty as compared with Italian churches. 
We found it crowded with a devout audience of men 
and women — chiefly women, but more men than we 

208 



expected — and the service was solemn and impressive. MlMiGtl — 
In addition to the organ and choir, there was a large Sunday There 
band of both brass and stringed instruments, and the SOldiGFS 

music was superb. We advanced well up the nave, and 
secured comfortable chairs in the midst of the congre- 
gation, and spent the hour, if not profitably, at least 
without disedification. Munich, of course, is a Catholic 
city, and Bavaria a Catholic country, but Protestantism 
is taking root here and there. 

We saw fewer soldiers than we anticipated. In the 
Marienplatz, in the center of old Munich, there was 
guard mount every morning, with much marching and 
countermarching, and good music; but few officers and 
soldiers appeared on the streets elsewhere, and these al- 
ways orderly and well-behaved. Munich, however, has 
a garrison of ten thousand men; but they are kept well 
in their barracks and confined to drill and discipline, as 
they should be. From what we saw of them, they were 
well-set-up and soldierly fellows, and looked as if they 
could run right over their Italian and Austrian allies, 
and have not much of a job either. 

In Munich we stopped at a pension, on Barerstrasse, 
not far from the Pinakotheks, or "Picture Galleries," 
and saw something of pension life. It was a large and 
handsome house, well furnished, and Frau F. did her 
best to make her guests comfortable. Her servants were 
all female, and they handled our trunks and luggage 
and did all kinds of work as if men. Her guests were 
chiefly English and Americans, with some Austrians and 
Germans, and changing daily. Her rooms were clean 
and table good, and guests interesting and entertaining. 
Some American girls from Cleveland and Chicago made 
14 209 



European things lively, and a retired English naval officer afforded 
Days and much amusement. He was a thorough John Bull, and 
Ways a law unto himself. He claimed to have traveled every- 
where, and to know everything and everybody the world 
over nearly, and used to go about the pension and come 
to his meals with a green parrot perched upon his shoul- 
der! His room was an "Old Curiosity Shop" in- 
deed, and his reminiscences were diverse and diverting. 
He had been to New Orleans once, and therefore 
claimed to know America and Americans ! He had been 
to Manila once, and thought Dewey a fine commander, 
and our "men behind the guns" good sea-dogs, but not 
to be compared with British tars, do n't you know ! An- 
other character was an Austrian civil engineer, who had 
lately been a professor in the university at Zurich, but 
had resigned, and was now studying in Munich. He 
both read and spoke English well, and we had many in- 
teresting conversations together. Another was a young 
and handsome German lady, who smoked her cigarette 
regularly and beautifully after each meal in the guest- 
hall. Another was a Tyrolean gentleman, who wore a 
long white heron-feather in his hat, and thought he was 
en regie. Pension life has this advantage over hotel life, 
that it brings people closer together, and you get better 
acquainted, and know more about passing men and 
things, than when stopping at a hotel. You have not 
quite the same freedom, of course, as when "taking mine 
ease in mine inn," as Shakespeare phrases it. But a 
good pension is better than a poor hotel, and the charges 
are much more reasonable — only about two-thirds or 
one-half, as a rule. Many pensions are really small 

2IO 



hotels, as this one was; but few are better kept or better MlMiGh — 
managed than the Pension F. at Munich. Pensions 

While here, we had a singular experience. We went 
out to walk one evening after dinner, and, returning 
about 9 P. M. under an electric street-lamp, came plump 
upon two American friends that we knew were some- 
where in Germany, but had no idea they were in Munich. 
They had just arrived, and, after dining, also went out 
for a stroll, and thus came plump upon us! It was a 
mutual surprise, and a very joyful one, and we signalized 
it by all returning to our pension, and having a long 
talk together. If they or we had been a few seconds 
sooner or later under that street-lamp, or just hap- 
pened a few seconds elsewhere, we should have missed 
seeing each other altogether, like ships passing blindly 
in the night. 



211 




Chapter XVIII 

E left Munich, August 8th, at i P. M., and 
reached Nuremberg about 5 P. M. the same 
day. The first few miles we passed through 
a rich farming country, where the people 
were everywhere at work in the fields, harvesting their 
hay and grain, and there seemed to be no end to their 
crops. Women were at work by the side of men, hold- 
ing their own, and oxen and cows were the chief draught 
animals. Horses were infrequent and indifferent, but 
excellent cows seemed to be the favorites, both double 
and single. The roads, of course, were perfect every- 
where, as they always are in Germany. Farther along 
we came into the hop-country, with hopvines growing 
on poles and trellises over vast districts, and it was easy 
to see whence Munich got her supply of hops. In- 
deed, the hop industry is a great business through much 
of Bavaria, and accounts for Bavarian beer largely. 
Next we came to a thin and poor country, of sand and 
pine barrens mostly, which extended much of the way 
to Nuremberg, and reminded one of the New Jersey 
"Pines" and North Carolina generally. 

At Nuremberg we stopped at the Wittelsbacher Hof, 
on the Pfannenschmiedsgasse (such names !) in the heart 
of old Nuremberg, where we had excellent rooms, but 
took our meals chiefly at outside restaurants, wherever 

212 



we happened to be when hungry. Nuremberg is an Nuremberg 
old city, founded A. D. 1050, and there is probably no 
town in Germany so mediaeval in appearance or so sug- 
gestive of the wealth and importance of old Germany. 
The discovery of the sea-route to India and China im- 
paired its prosperity; for the whole Rhine trade from 
Venice to Amsterdam passed through Nuremberg, and 
it suffered still more during the Thirty Years' War, and 
afterwards. But in 1806 it became a Bavarian city, and 
since then has prospered greatly, and is now the most 
important commercial and manufacturing city in South- 
ern Germany. It has about one hundred and fifty thou- 
sand population, and with its new and extending su- 
burbs, its electric roads, and bicycle factories, impresses 
one with its renewed youth and vigor, as well as old age. 
Old Nuremberg is indeed old and curious; but there is 
a Young Nuremberg that reminds one rather of Cleve- 
land and Chicago. 

The little River Pegnitz divides the town into two 
nearly equal parts, and is crossed by several bridges, 
one of them, the Fleischbriicke, being an imitation of 
the Rialto at Venice, and a pretty good one, too. An- 
other, the suspension bridge, was one of the first of 
its kind in Germany. Another, the Karlsbriicke, is 
adorned with two obelisks — one with a dove and olive- 
branch, and the other with the imperial eagle, as 
memorials of the Emperor Charles VI, "the Peace- 
bringer." The banks of the river are crowded with 
quaint old houses, gambrel-roofed and many-gabled, 
picturesque and dilapidated, as if they had come down 
from many centuries. 

The old fortifications date from the Middle Ages, 
213 



European 

Days and 

Ways 



and must have been massive and handsome in their 
time. In many places they have been removed to make 
way for the growth of the city; but the old gates and 
towers still stand, and some of the ancient walls. Orig- 
inally they consisted of a high brick rampart encircling 
the city, with square and round towers at intervals, 
and a dry moat thirty-five yards wide and thirty-three 
feet deep. Now only trees and grass and flowers grow 
in the great moat, and here and there a flock of boys 

were having a 
game of baseball. 
How the merry, 
red-faced lads 
seemed to enjoy 
it! And perhaps 
all the more be- 
cause grim-vis- 
aged war once 
ruled there, 
though now only 
"the piping times 
Nuremberg abounds in quaint and pic- 
turesque old houses and public buildings, with low 
side-walls, but lofty fronts and high-peaked gables, 
some seeming all roof, with queer little windows along 
the roofs, indicating the stories. We saw some only 
one or two stories at the side walls, but with six or 
seven above these at the gable ends and along the roofs. 
They are usually of stone or brick stuccoed, though 
some old ones are of wood. Their general style is old 
Gothic, but the facades are often richly frescoed and 
ornamented in the Renaissance style. The old Rath- 

214 




Market of pe ace." 
Square, 
Nuremberg. 



haus, or Town Hall, was erected in 1340, and contains Nuremberg- 
frescoes by Albrecht Durer and some handsome old AlbreGht 
stained-glass windows. They show you Albrecht Durer 
Durer's house, on Albrecht-Durer-Strasse, and his 
statue in Albrecht-Durer-Platz, and also Hans Sachs's 
house in Hans-Sachs-Gasse, and his statue in the Spital- 
platz near by. Durer, of course, was their great artist, 
and Sachs their popular poet, and Nuremberg still holds 
them both in loving and reverent memory. I think 
Albrecht Durer's "Christ" the finest head of Christ 
we saw in Europe. We saw none in Italy that inter- 
ested me much; they were all effeminate, like the usual 
and habitual "Christ," except perhaps one in the Vatican 
at Rome by Raphael or Guido Reni. But Albrecht 
Durer's "Christ" expresses intellect and power, as well 
as Divine love and pity; is both Godlike and man- 
like; and I prize a copy I got at Nuremberg very 
highly and dearly. 

Her old churches of St. Lawrence (thirteenth cen- 
tury) and St. Sebaldus (eleventh- century) were both 
originally Romanesque structures, but afterwards re- 
modeled into Gothic. They contain exquisite stained- 
glass windows, and elaborate stone sculptures and wood- 
carvings, and famous bronzes and brasses, by Adam 
Krafft, Peter Fischer, and others, and abound in beauty 
and quaintness. Some of these masterpieces took the 
artists and their assistants thirteen years to complete, 
and cost a mint of money. But how exquisite and 
charming they are, and they will continue so forever! 

Her National Museum is accounted one of the finest 
in Germany, and well repays a prolonged visit. It 
occupies an old suppressed Carthusian monastery, a 

215 



European Gothic building of the fourteenth century, to which an 
Days and old Augustine monastery of the fifteenth century was 
Ways afterwards added. Clearly they could not have been 
put to a much better use. They contain nearly one 
hundred rooms, and their contents well illustrate the 
history and progress of Germany. Here are old Greek 
and Roman antiquities; Germanic antiquities; prehis- 
toric antiquities from lake-dwellings; ancient tomb- 
stones; German and Venetian glass, porcelain, and 
majolicas; richly-carved furniture; old Gothic wardrobes 
and bedsteads in ebony; old German costumes and 
armor and weapons; German paintings and sculptures; 
models of German wagons, ships, printing-presses, 
calendars, maps, musical instruments, and about every- 
thing else a German has ever invented or used. We 
spent several hours here very pleasantly and profitably, 
and think Nuremberg may well be proud of her old 
museum. 

Nuremberg has also some curious old fountains, 
that surpass even those at Berne. One is called the 
"Little Goose-Man," with a goose, the German national 
fowl, under each arm, spouting water from their bills. 
Another, by the side of her great cathedral (St. Law- 
rence) has a figure of Justice with her scales on top, 
with water spouting from the nipples of her breast; 
with an eagle behind her, and water spouting from his 
beak; with six trumpeters several feet beneath, and 
water spouting from their trumpets; and, several feet 
below these, allegorical figures of Peace, War, Art, 
Science, Religion, and Poetry, with water spouting from 
the nipples of all their breasts. There is another one, 
most exquisitely and curiously wrought, in the old 

216 



marketplace in front of old St. Sebaldus; but I can not Nuremberg- 
recall its details now, and omitted to record them. The Berg 

Nuremberg owes her location and importance to a 
high and abrupt hill or "Berg," that rises on the north- 
west side of the city, and dominates the whole land- 
scape there. Here some robber baron, or strong man, 
settled centuries ago, and built his castle, and "took 
toll" of all passing travelers, and the town grew up 
around it. The old castle or citadel is still there, and 
on its parapet are shown two hoof-shaped impressions, 
which they say were left by the horse of a captive knight 
in the sixteenth century, who escaped by leaping over 
the broad moat. Of course, it could not have been 
so wide as now (thirty-five yards), but I give the legend 
for what it is worth. Inside is an old well, three hun- 
dred and sixty feet deep, through the solid rock, for 
use in time of sieges, with side galleries deep down ex- 
tending under ground to the ancient Rathhaus, and so 
out into the city, they say. Here also is an old museum, 
with ancient arms and armor, and the old "torture 
chamber," with the "Maid of Nuremberg," or "Our 
Lady of Nuremberg," and other ancient implements 
of punishment. We were shown an old executioner's 
sword here, that had cut off eight hundred heads, so 
it was labeled. Here also are ancient thumbscrews and 
racks, that were used to make people tell the truth 
or untruth, as their torturers desired. Balls and chains, 
handcuffs and manacles, of course, are there; but these 
are nothing. We were shown an old "cradle," lined 
with sharp iron spikes, into which men and women 
were made to lie down, and then rocked to death; also 
a "wheel" upon which men were broken alive; also the 

217 



European "Spanish Saddle," a sharp piece of hard wood upon 
Days and which men were made to mount, and then their feet 
Ways were weighted down with stones or iron until they were 
sawn asunder. 

The "Maid of Nuremberg," or "Our Lady of Nurem- 
berg," is a colossal statue in bronze of a comely woman, 
with her front opening on side hinges, into which a 
traitor or heretic was thrust alive, and then "Our Lady" 
closed slowly upon him, piercing his eyes, head, and 
heart with needles of steel, crushing his arms and legs, 
and literally hugging him to death in her infernal em- 
brace. What ingenuity and refinement of torture and 
cruelty those old Germans, and indeed all Europe, really 
had! And they kept it up, too, down to a century or 
so ago. To decapitate a man was a common thing, 
unless he was one of the aristocracy; and even then 
he did not stand much chance, if accounted a heretic. 
How could human beings do or stand such things? 
How could kings and priests, with sword and gown — 
with "bell, book, and candle" — as servants of God and 
ministers of Justice, be guilty of such devil's work under 
the sacred names and forms of law and order? The 
French Revolution was a great tragedy, and Napoleon 
Bonaparte a great rascal, no doubt. But they ended 
all these kingly outrages and priestly crimes against 
our fellow-men, and may History execrate such atroci- 
ties forever! I am glad I did not live in such times, 
for they would have beheaded me as a patriot, or burnt 
me as a heretic, for certain and for sure ! 

Nuremberg is also noted for its exquisite laces and 
fine embroideries; for its wood-carvings, toys, and 
metal work; for its stamped leather and pottery ware; 

218 



for its linen, woolen and iron mills, and other modern 
industries. We took a long trolley-ride one afternoon 
through its new and growing suburbs, out to Furth 
and return, some five miles, and it seemed like a con- 
tinuous mill or factory the entire route, nearly. Furth, 
too, is a quaint and curious old town, but full of modern 
intelligence and energy, and, if 
in America, would soon be an- 
nexed, with her fifty thousand 
inhabitants, to the still greater 
Nuremberg. Practically they 
comprise but one city, and ought 
to be under the same munici- 
pality. 

On the whole, one thinks 
Nuremberg takes herself seri- 
ously, as befits her antique edi- 
fices and ancient history. But 
she also has her modern pleas- 
ure-grounds, the Stadt-Park, 
some three or four miles out by 
trolley-car, where she has 
swings, boats, dancing, and 
music galore. Here the modern 
men and maids of Nuremberg disport themselves at 
will, like New York or Chicago even, and "all goes 
merry as a marriage-bell." We took a ride out there 
one morning; but it was too early to see much more 
than the park itself, which was everything lovely and 
attractive. 

Here, also, at Nuremberg again, I regret to say, we 
saw German women performing all kinds of manual 

219 



Nuremberg- 
Furth 




Woman's 

Rights, 

Nuremberg. 



European labor, like men, and also harnessed up with dogs to 
Days and little wagons and carts. They had a kind of rope or 
Ways leather harness over their chests and shoulders by which 
they pulled their share of the load, and went bare- 
headed everywhere, in sunshine and shade. They 
hauled milk and vegetables, and all kinds of light mer- 
chandise, about the streets in this way, and nobody 
seemed to mind it — rather looked upon it as a matter 
of course. In the old marketplace, before the Church 
of St. Sebaldus, we saw scores of women and girls har- 
nessed up to such vehicles, and others carrying hampers 
and crates of goods on their backs, that it seemed impos- 
sible for women to bear. We took "snapshots" at some 
of them, with our little Kodak, but others turned their 
heads and darted away, as if they shunned such im- 
mortality. One old creature in particular rushed madly 
off; but we "got" her, after all, from another view- 
point around the corner, and she is "took" forever. 

It goes without saying, that we enjoyed Nuremberg 
very much, and think all good Americans must do the 
same. It is so quaint and curious, so different from 
all we ever see in America, and withal so artistic and 
picturesque. Moreover, it has caught the modern 
spirit, too, and between the ancient and the modern 
is quite perfect in its way. See Nuremberg, and live! 



220 




Chapter XIX 

;E left Nuremberg August nth, 9.30 A. M., Wwzblirg 
and arrived at Heidelberg the same after- 
noon. The first part of the way was through 
a fine country, but presently it became sand 
and pines again, and this extended well towards Wurz- 
burg. As we approached Wiirzburg, however, we 
struck a fine country again, covered with vast hop- 
fields and vineyards, through the lovely valley of the 
Main, and found here another old city of some sixty 
thousand people. It was the seat of a bishop as long 
ago as A. D. 741, when Burkardus was consecrated 
here by St. Boniface, and is now the capital of the 
Bavarian Province of Unterfranken, or Lower Fran- 
conia. It contains many buildings of interest, both 
old and new, including the old cathedral (begun 862 
and consecrated 1189), the New Munster Church 
(eleventh century), the university (1587), the royal 
palace (1720), and a huge wine-cellar, said to be the 
largest in Germany, holding two hundred great casks 
of the famous Franconian wine, produced by the royal 
vineyards here and near here. We were here only an 
hour, awaiting our railroad connection, but judged 
Wiirzburg to be quite a place, if one had time to see it. 
Thence we proceeded on to the Neckar, an affluent 
of the Rhine, and struck this at a little place called 

221 



European Neckarelz. Next we came to Neckarhausen, then to 
Days and Neckarsteinach, then to Neckargerolden, then to Neck- 
WayS argemiind, and there is a Neckarburken, and a Neckar- 
bischofsheim also, though I am not sure I have these 
"Neckars" in their proper order. The valley of the 
Neckar is rich and fertile, and its hills and stretches 
beautiful beyond description. The fields are separated 
by great stone rows, the work of centuries of toil, and 
cultivated to the utmost. Here, also, the people were 
everywhere in the fields, harvesting their summer crops, 
and their wagons were drawn almost invariably by 
sleek and well-fed cows. In the fields only a single 
wagon, piled high with hay or grain, was hitched to 
a yoke of cows; but when the good macadam roads 
were reached, often two and three wagons were fas- 
tened together, and hauled by a single yoke of cows. 
There was a general absence of horses and mules, and 
what we saw were poor and ill-cared-for, much to our 
surprise. And at Neckargerolden, as we drew up at 
the station, the only hotel carriage (and mail-wagon) 
present was a little hack capable of holding a half dozen 
or so, drawn by a single cow harnessed between the 
shafts! She was munching her cud in blissful happi- 
ness, and seemed no way disturbed by our noise and 
racket — a perfect picture of German content! Of 
course, her passengers would find progress slow; but, 
in time, they would "get there" all the same ! And 
"time" is not so valuable in Europe as in America. 

We reached Heidelberg late in the afternoon, and, 
after a considerable stroll about the town, dined early. 
After dinner we took another walk through the heart 
of the city and down along the Neckar. The city con- 

222 



sists mainly of one street, the Hauptstrasse, a mile Heidelberg- 
and a half long, stretching along the Neckar and The Univer- 
crowded into its narrow valley, with a few unimportant Sity 
parallel and cross streets. It has a handsome little 
park, called the Anlage, planted with trees and shrub- 
bery, and flanked by modern hotels and dwellings. 
The rest of the town is old and quaint, though it lacks 
the picturesque roofs and gables of old Nuremberg. 
It contains about thirty thousand inhabitants, and is 
now the capital of the Grand Duchy of Baden, and, 
on the whole, seems prosperous and well-to-do. So 
long ago as 1228 it became the capital of the Palatinate, 
and continued so for five hundred years, so that it must 
have been a place of considerable importance even be- 
fore then. It has an old university, founded 1386, and 
an old library of four hundred thousand volumes, and 
here the German princes and all that is best in Ger- 
many come for an education. The university averages 
from one thousand to twelve hundred students, with 
eminent professors and splendid scientific collections, 
and has students from all over the world as well as 
Germany; but its buildings compare poorly with the 
palatial halls and dormitories of Harvard and Prince- 
ton. Possibly we Americans are putting too much 
money in buildings, and not enough in cheapening 
education, so that even the poorest boy may have a 
chance. Surely "brains" are of more importance than 
mere brick (or stone) and mortar. 

The great and distinctive feature of Heidelberg, 
however, to the tourist is her ancient Schloss, or castle, 
which is of vast extent, and said to be "the most mag- 
nificent ruin in Germany." It lies on a high hill, or 

223 



European little mountain, overlooking the city and river, and the 
Days and view from thence down the valley of the Neckar is 
Ways something superb and glorious. There is a good car- 
riage-road and fine footpath up there; but there is also 
a cable road, that will take you from the Kornmarkt 
down in the town right up to the castle in less than 
five minutes. After an early breakfast, we took this 
cable road, and were soon landed near the castle gate. 
It is an old, old place, originally a chateau only 
(A. D. 1300), and then a castle, and then a palace, and 
then enlarged and strongly fortified as both castle and 
palace, until it became practically impregnable, and 
dominated the whole country there. Its ivy-clad walls 
and towers still stand in great part, some of them twenty 
feet thick and fifty feet high, surrounded by a moat 
thirty feet deep and over a hundred feet wide. The 
old castle itself is still a majestic ruin — part in good 
repair, and part being now carefully restored by the 
Imperial German Government. As the exterior served 
chiefly for defense, all architectural ornament, of course, 
was reserved for the inner facade, facing on the Schloss- 
hof or castle yard, and this is singularly beautiful. This 
facade is partly Ionic and partly Corinthian, and rises 
in three lofty stories, adorned with lovely sculpturing. 
A double flight of steps leads up to the portal, which 
is itself supported by stately Caryatides. Above is the 
bust of the founder, Elector Otto Heinrich, with his 
armorial bearings. In the niches of the facade are 
handsome statues, all having a symbolical meaning, and 
in the Renaissance style. "In the four lower niches 
are Joshua, Samson, Hercules, and David, the repre- 
sentatives of strength and courage, the foundations on 

224 



which a princely house rests; in the middle niches, alle- Heidelberg— 
gorical figures of Strength, Justice, Faith, Hope, and The SGlllOSS 
Charity, the virtues which adorn a princely family; in 
the upper niches, Saturn, Mars, Venus, Mercury, Diana, 
Apollo, and Jupiter, or the seven gods of the planets, 
symbolizing the higher powers, who rule the destinies 
of all. In the window arches are medallions of the 
heads of eminent men of antiquity." 

The above is the main fagade. Another adjoining 
is four stories high — Doric, Tuscan, Ionic, and Co- 
rinthian — and, while inferior in ornamentation, yet sur- 
passes the other in grandeur. In its niches are sixteen 
admirable statues of Charlemagne and other German 
princes and counts palatine; and the whole seems to 
have been done regardless of time and expense. Scores 
of skilled workmen were busy with hammer and chisel 
in restoring both of these facades and the castle else- 
where, and the German Government deserves much 
honor and credit for thus seeking to preserve and per- 
petuate this magnificent old ruin. 

We wandered all through the old castle, and the 
castle chapel, by its corridors and secret passages — its 
walls so thick, passages easy anywhere — and ascended 
the tower, and came out on the balcony, where one 
gets a magnificent view of Heidelberg and the Neckar 
Valley. How exquisite and superb it all is! And how 
majestic and glorious the old castle must have been 
in the age of knighthood and chivalry! One can well 
imagine kings and princes, knights and fair ladies, 
peopling all these vast halls and walls, while their 
countless retainers swarmed below; and what a picture 
Heidelberg must have been in those days! 
15 225 



European In the great wine-cellar we were shown the famous 

Days and Heidelberg Tun, a monster wine-cask capable of hold- 
WayS ing fifty thousand gallons. It was constructed in 1751 
by the Elector Charles Philip, as the successor of three 
others, the first of which was erected in 1591. It is 
authenticated by humorous inscriptions and grotesque 
wooden figures, and is one of the sights of the old 
castle. 

The old castle was in good condition until 1688, 
when both town and castle capitulated to a French 
general, who spent the following winter here. In the 
spring, on the approach of the German armies, he deter- 
mined to burn and blow up the whole place, so far as 
it would burn and blow up. He blew up one of the 
main towers, ninety-three feet in diameter and twenty- 
one feet thick, and the half of it merely toppled over 
into the broad fosse, or moat, and there it lies uncrum- 
bled still. He might as well have tried to blow up a 
mountain. The Germans rebuilt it, and a half century 
afterwards it was struck by lightning, and now for a 
century or more it has been a gigantic ruin, but will 
last a thousand years yet, whether restored or not. Evi- 
dently those old Germans knew how to make mortar 
and cement, like the builders of old Rome. The whole 
is built of red sandstone, much like that in the valley 
of the Delaware, but finer grained and harder. It came 
from the bluffs in the valley of the Neckar, and these 
are still being quarried and their product shipped by 
boat down the Neckar and Rhine to Holland and 
Belgium. 

Beyond the castle extends the Schlossgarten and 
Great Terrace for half a mile or more along the moun- 

226 



tain side, overlooking the castle and the Neckar Valley, Frankfort Oil- 
and affording magnificent views of both. Here are the-Main 
choice trees and shrubbery, and fountains and flowers, 
and excellent restaurants, and all Heidelberg comes 
up here for its Sunday afternoons and summer "out- 
ings." We found many tourists here, with Germans 
predominating as usual, and they could not go to a 
finer or more interesting place in all Europe than dear 
old Heidelberg. 

We left Heidelberg, August 12th, after luncheon, 
and arrived at Frankfort-on-the-Main the same day 
about 4 P. M. It is only a short ride down the valley 
of the Neckar and through the broad plains of Hessen- 
Darmstadt, and you are soon there. En route you pass 
through* Darmstadt, the capital of the Grand Duchy 
of Hessen, a town of some fifty thousand people, with 
broad streets and handsome little parks, but we did 
not stop there. In the smaller towns and villages, as 
we passed along, the houses seemed to be all of brick, 
with gable-ends to the street, in true German style, 
and usually of only one story. In Darmstadt many 
were the same, though others were more modern and 
pretentious. 

At Frankfort we found a handsome and growing 
city of nearly two hundred thousand inhabitants, with 
every sign of prosperity and progress. It is an old 
town, too, dating back to the first century, when it 
was only a small Roman camp. But it was long a Free 
City, and prospered accordingly. It now belongs to 
Prussia (since the Franco-German War, 1870-71), but 
Prussia knows how to rule it wisely and well. It lies 
in a spacious plain, on the right bank of the Main, with 

227 



European mountains in the distance, and commands the trade and 
Days and commerce of all that region, and so down to the Rhine. 
Ways Its old walls have been demolished, and instead hand- 
some parks and pleasure-grounds now girdle the city, 
with walks and drives we never can equal in America, 
because we have never had any walls encircling our 
cities. They were alive with carriages and equestrians 
the day we rode there, and it was a charming day, too 
— neither too hot nor too cold. Four old watch-towers 
are still maintained as memorials of the past, and they 
look as antique and mediaeval as those at Nuremberg. 
We stopped at the Hotel Schwan (Swan), where 
the treaty of peace between Germany and France was 
concluded, May 10, 1871, and found excellent^ accom- 
modations. They show you the parlor in which the 
treaty was signed, and the table around which Bis- 
marck and Favre and their colleagues sat, and will 
sell you a photograph of the whole business, if you want 
it. Above all, the hotel was clean, and its charges 
reasonable; and as I had to be ill for a day or so, as it 
chanced, we were glad to be there. 

Frankfort has some narrow streets in her old quar- 
ters; but in the main her avenues and streets are broad 
and handsome, and flanked by stately buildings. She 
has many squares, or "Platz," with monuments to 
Luther, Gutenburg, Goethe, and others, and her old 
Romer, or town hall, erected 1405, is a late-Gothic 
edifice, with lofty gables and broad-pointed doorways, 
worthy of the Free City of Germany. Its great hall is 
adorned with portraits and statues of German emperors 
and princes, from Charlemagne to William I, and is rich 
in historic associations. Its old cathedral dates back 

228 



to 852, and contains some good frescoes and fine 
stained-glass windows, and it has a fine town library 
of two hundred thousand volumes, free to everybody. 
It has an art institute, founded by one of its citizens, 
who bequeathed his pictures, engravings, houses, etc., 
to the city (worth over half a million of dollars), in 
order to found a school of art, and he could not have 
done a better thing with his money. Here are many 
fine specimens of the Dutch and Flemish schools, and of 
modern German 
painters as well, 
and the collection 
is well worthy of 
Frankfort. 

They show 
you the dingy old 
house in the Ju- 
dengasse (or Jew's 
street or alley), 
where Mayer 
Rothschild was 

born and lived — the founder of the 
Rothschild — and also the Rothschild 




great 



House 
Museum and 

Rothschild Public Library, containing the magnificent 
art collections of the Rothschild family, and worthy of 
them. The library is yet in its infancy; has only ten 
thousand volumes; but the museum is rich in gold and 
silver plate, gems, cameos and intaglios, works in rock 
crystal, pique work, wood and ivory carvings, enamels, 
and Chinese and Japanese porcelains unrivaled in 
private collections. This old Jews' street, down to a 
century ago, was closed every evening, and on Sundays 

229 



Q f Frankfort- 

ON-THE- 

Main. 



European and holidays throughout the whole day, with lock and 
Days and key, and no Jew was allowed to venture abroad under 
WflyS penalty of fine and imprisonment. In spite of this, and 
other petty tyrannies, many Jews managed to prosper 
in these squalid quarters, and became great bankers, 
financiers, and musicians — all honor to their Hebrew 
blood ! Napoleon Bonaparte ended all this, too, and 
every Hebrew owes him a debt of gratitude. 

One of the finest things we saw in Frankfort, how- 
ever, and which yet lingers in my memory, is a marble 
group of Ariadne on the Panther, by Dannecker of 
Stuttgart, in Bethmann's Museum. This museum con- 
tains other good sculptures also, but nothing approach- 
ing this Ariadne. In pose, in expression, in simplicity, 
in beauty, in everything that goes to make up a life- 
like and imposing piece of sculpture, this Ariadne is 
not surpassed out of Italy, and by not much of its 
kind there. We went back to it again and again, and 
always found it surrounded by a group of ardent ad- 
mirers; and it well deserves its high repute. 

The Gutenburg monument is a fine group in bronze, 
on a large sandstone pedestal, erected in 1858. The 
central figure is Gutenburg himself. On his right 
stands John Faust, on his left Schoffer. On the frieze 
are portrait-heads of fourteen celebrated printers, in- 
cluding our English Caxton. In the four niches be- 
neath are the arms of the four towns where "the art 
preservative of all arts" was first practiced; to wit, 
Mayence, Frankfort, Venice, and Strassburg. Around 
the base are figures representing Theology, Poetry, 
Natural Science, and Industry. The whole thing is a 
credit to Frankfort, and she is justly proud of it. The 

230 



Goethe monument is also very beautiful. The reliefs Frankfort 
in front are allegorical; on the sides are figures from 
Goethe's poems. In one of her chief streets is also a 
fine War Monument to the memory of the soldiers of 
Frankfort, who fell in the great war of 1870-71 with 
France, and it is worthy of the Free City of Frankfort. 

It would be hardly right to leave Frankfort without 
some mention of her old bridges across the Main. The 
oldest one dates back to 1222, and is eight hundred 
and sixty-nine feet long, with fourteen arches. For 
centuries it has been surmounted by an iron crucifix, 
with an insignificant cock over it, to commemorate, 
so they say, the cock which first crossed the bridge, 
and thus fell a prey to the devil, who, in hope of a 
nobler victim, had sold his assistance to the bridge 
architect. This cock and crucifix are mentioned in 
history as early as 1405, and antiquaries assert that 
they probably mark the spot where criminals in the 
olden times were flung into the Main. 

Frankfort has always been more of a commercial 
and financial center than an industrial town. It once 
had a great book-trade, but has long been distanced 
in this respect by Leipsic. It now manufactures con- 
siderable jewelry, gold and silver thread, tapestry, 
leather, clocks, furniture, and such like articles, and is 
famous for its great spring and autumn fairs. But its 
chief business is banking and finance. It has over three 
hundred banking offices, and its financial schemes 
reach around the globe. It is full of intelligence, busi- 
ness, and energy, and long may it continue so — a 
credit to itself and an honor to the great German 
Empire. 

231 



European Frankfort, like many other German cities, is grow- 

DayS and ing almost as fast as Chicago and New York. They 
Ways have waked up and made great strides during the last 
thirty years. They have street pavements, asphalt and 
Belgian blocks, sewers, water supply, electric cars, 
schoolhouses, and other modern improvements, not 
much excelled in America, and the use of the telephone 
and electric lights is almost universal, much more than 
here. The modern German is a wide-awake man, and 
will bear watching, even by Brother Jonathan. 



232 



1 



Chapter XX 

E struck the Rhine at Mayence, August MayeilGe- 
14th, after a brief railroad ride from Frank- Down the 
fort, and took a little steamboat down to 
Coblenz the same afternoon. Here we were 



at last on the Rhine, the historic and classic Rhine; 
and we set out to enjoy it duly. It did not seem to 
be much of a river at Mayence, not so large as the Dela- 
ware at Trenton; but it grew larger as we descended 
it, and more picturesque and beautiful. We did not 
see much of Mayence, as we were there only an hour 
or so. But it is a town of over seventy thousand in- 
habitants, with a garrison of eight thousand soldiers, 
and dates back to old Roman days. Agricola was here 
with a Roman legion before the birth of Christ. 
It has had a checkered career, and was once so rich 
and prosperous it was called the "Golden Mayence." 
It has many ancient houses, and a fine old Gothic 
cathedral, that was built originally in 975, and burned 
down four times, but after each fire re-erected better 
than before. In 1767 it was struck by lightning, and 
afterwards used for many years as an army magazine; 
but in 1 814 it was duly repaired and restored to its 
sacred uses. It has also a statue of Gutenburg in a 
Platz named after him, and claims with good reason 
to have been the birthplace of the great inventor of 

233 



European printing. It is strongly fortified, and regarded as one 
DdyS and of the great strongholds now of Germany on the Rhine. 
Ways It has a lovely esplanade along the Rhine, where the 
bank of the river has been filled in and planted with 
handsome trees, and my best recollection of Mayence 
is of sitting there on a hot afternoon and enjoying 
lunch while waiting for the down-river steamboat. 

This came along duly, crowded with passengers,* 
but we found excellent seats on the upper deck under 
a canvas awning, and were soon en route down the 
Rhine. We reached Coblenz in time for a late dinner, 
and stopped at the Hotel Bellevue, overlooking the 
Rhine and Ehrenbreitstein. The next morning we took 
a carriage, and drove all about the city, except where 
the narrow streets or the city regulations made us walk. 
Coblenz is another old Rhine town, with a population 
of some forty thousand and a garrison of five thousand. 
It lies at the junction of the Moselle and the Rhine, 
two of the most picturesque rivers in Germany, if not 
in Europe, and commands charming views in all direc- 
tions. Right at the junction of the two rivers, and 
overlooking both, a massive monument has been 
erected, stately and beautiful, commemorative of the 
great war of 1870-71 and of the signal victory of Ger- 
many over France. We did not see a finer war monu- 
ment while abroad, nor a better site for one. 

Coblenz has also utilized her river bank, and made 
a "Rhine promenade" that exceeds in extent and beauty 
even that at Mayence. She has simply filled in her 
ragged and unsightly river bank, curbing the Rhine with 



The Rhine travel is estimated at two or three millions annually. 
234 



stone walls, and planting the new ground thus made CobleilZ — 
with handsome trees and shrubbery. It was done only Down the 
in 1890, under the auspices of the Empress Augusta, Rhine 
and she is credited with much of the good sense and 
taste thus displayed. Here is now the chief park and 
pleasure ground of Coblenz, and she could not have 
a finer one. Many an American city might profit by 
her example. 

A bridge of boats, about four hundred yards long, 
with a draw for steamboats, stretches across the 
Rhine to Ehrenbreitstein, the great German fortress 
on the opposite bank of the river. So jealous have 
Germany and France been of each other that they 
have never allowed the Rhine to be bridged in this 
region, except by a bridge of boats. There was one 
built here or near here by Caesar in his time, but it was 
soon destroyed as a military precaution. There is a 
railroad bridge at Coblenz, and at other points; but no 
ordinary travel is allowed over these, and they could 
soon be blown up or broken down in case of war. Mili- 
tary reasons have long controlled everything here, and 
bid fair to do so for generations to come. The fortress 
itself is a precipitous rock, except on the north side, 
rising four hundred feet above the Rhine, and heavily 
fortified on every side with all that German art and 
skill can do. High-class guns are mounted on every 
point, and command all approaches, and a garrison of 
over five thousand men here keep watch and ward over 
"Father Rhine" for the kaiser. 

August 15th we took boat again for another ride 
down the Rhine, and the same evening arrived at 
Cologne. We stopped at the Hotel Dom, on the square 

235 



European fronting the great cathedral or Dom, and found ex- 
DayS and cellent accommodations. We dined out at a restaurant, 
Ways to see more of the people and something of the town, 
and the next morning rambled and drove about the 
city still more. Here again is another old, old place. 
It was founded by the Ubii, B. C. 38, when they were 
compelled by Agrippa to migrate from the right to the 
left bank of the Rhine. About a century afterwards, 
Agrippina, daughter of Germanicus and mother of 
Nero, brought a colony of Roman veterans here, and 
hence its name from the Latin "colonia." In A. D. 
308, Constantine the Great built a stone bridge across 
the Rhine here, but it was soon destroyed for military 
reasons, and now only a bridge of boats and an iron 
railroad bridge span the river here, as at Coblenz. 
Through all the Middle Ages Cologne was an important 
and prosperous city, belonging to the Hanseatic and 
the Rhenish Leagues, and is now a city of three hun- 
dred thousand inhabitants, with a garrison of ten thou- 
sand. As you approach it, it has an imposing appear- 
ance, with its numerous towers and spires; but on land- 
ing you find many of its old streets narrow, gloomy, 
and badly drained. Hence the old story, that Cologne 
has "seventy stinks, each separate and distinct," not- 
withstanding her celebrated Cologne-water, and also 
the old couplet: 

"The river Rhine doth wash Cologne, 
But who shall wash the river Rhine?" 

The town-site, however, has recently been nearly 
doubled by an advance of the line of fortifications, and 
her new and wide streets are extending and being 

236 



built up rapidly. The old fortifications were purchased Cologne — 
by the city, at a cost of nearly $3,000,000, and demol- The Dom 
ished, and the new Ringstrasse here is a series of 
boulevards four miles long, encircling the town, and 
beautifully laid out with trees and flower-beds. Here 
modern buildings are going up, ambitious and strik- 
ing, and Cologne will renew her youth under better 
auspices and conditions. 

The chief thing at Cologne, of course, is her great 
Dom, or cathedral, which charms everybody, and is 
probably the most magnificent Gothic edifice in the 
world. It is the first thing you see as you approach 
Cologne, and the last as you depart, its lofty towers 
dominating the city and landscape. It stands on a 
slight eminence, about sixty feet above the Rhine, com- 
posed of old Roman remains, and an old church was 
built here as early as the ninth century. The present 
structure was begun in 1248, over two centuries be- 
fore Columbus discovered America, and it took over 
six hundred years to complete it. It is a great old 
church, four hundred and forty-four feet long by two 
hundred wide, with twin towers five hundred and twelve 
feet high — the highest, I think, in Europe — its elab- 
orate towers alone costing over five millions of dollars. 
How they soar and uplift themselves, as if they meant 
to pierce the very sky! Its architects and builders, 
in the very beginning, "devised liberal things." They 
worked away at their great plan two hundred years, 
and then stopped. They tried it again for two hun- 
dred years more, and then gave up in despair. They 
built the choir and part of the nave, and worshiped 
long in these; but they fell into decay, and they 

237 



European had no money to repair them. Then the French cap- 
DayS and tured Cologne, in one of their old Rhine campaigns, 
Ways and occupied the cathedral as a hay and grain maga- 
zine, and tore off the leaden roof and cast it into bul- 
lets to fire at the Germans. But the Germans finally 
recovered possession again, in spite of French bullets, 
and plucked up their Christian courage, and set to work 
to rebuild and finish their grand old church; and in 
1880, after the Franco-German war, they finally com- 
pleted it, thanks to the French indemnity in part. And 
there it will stand forever (apparently), on the banks 
of their German Rhine, as a monument to German 
genius, German piety, and German pluck. All honor 
to the German race ! 

It is sui generis, but has suggestions evidently from 
the matchless Duomo at Milan. It is really a mountain 
of masonry, but is enlivened by a profusion of flying 
buttresses, turrets, gargoyles, cornices, and foliage. Its 
two huge towers consist of four stories, the three lower 
square, while the fourth is octagonal, crowned with open 
spires. Its great bronze doors are models of skill and 
beauty, and really poems in bronze. The crane on the 
south tower, by which building materials were raised 
and lowered, stood there for four hundred years, as one 
of the chief landmarks of Cologne, and was not re- 
moved until 1868. Its largest bell weighs twenty-five 
tons, and takes twenty-eight men to ring it. It was cast 
in 1874, from captured French cannon, which was only 
poetic justice! Its stained-glass windows, part ancient 
and part modern, are visions of loveliness and beauty, 
worthy of a poet's dream or a painter's fancy. Its whole 
interior is exquisite and beautiful, with all that Art can 

238 



do or Religion conceive, though, as a whole, it does not Cologne — 
impress one, I think, so much as the Duomo or St. The 
Peter's. There is a sublimity and grandeur about the Cathedral 
Duomo, and a gorgeousness and glory about St. Peter s, 
that the hand of man has never yet equaled and ap- 
parently never will. 

We spent several hours strolling around and through 
the grand old cathedral, and went back a second time 
for a further look, and bade it good-bye at last with 
genuine regret. I wonder if we will ever have such a 
church in America; and, if so, where will it grow up? 
Or is the age of cathedrals past, as well as miracles? 
For such a cathedral is, indeed, a miracle both of art 
and treasure. 

The Rhine itself is a good deal of a river for Europe. 
We struck it first in the Tyrol, whence it runs through 
Lake Constance, and so for two hundred and fifty miles 
through Switzerland; then four hundred and fifty miles 
through Germany; and then one hundred miles through 
Holland, making eight hundred miles in all, until lost 
in the Zuyder Zee. At Mayence it seemed to be only 
four or five feet deep, but down at Coblenz and Cologne 
it got to be twenty or thirty, and in places even deeper. 
It is of more uniform depth than our American rivers 
because fed all summer by the Alpine snows, and is a 
great highway for travel and traffic, as it has been for 
two thousand years and more. Before Caesar's time it 
was the favorite road from the Mediterranean to the 
North Sea, and was the classic river of the Middle Ages, 
as the Tiber was of antiquity. Starting from Venice, 
the route was first to Verona, and then to Innsbruck; 
thence either through the Tyrol to Lake Constance, and 

239 



European so down the Rhine; or else from Innsbruck to Munich 
Days and Nuremberg, Mayence, and so down the Rhine — pretty 
Ways much as we traveled. It was the rivers and river-valleys 
that dictated the route originally, before the days of the 
locomotive and the railroad, and when these came along 
there were the cities and the people, and they followed 
the same way substantially. Of course, there was some 
cutting "across lots," but it was chiefly up the Inn and 
down the Rhine, and so to Holland and England. 

No wonder France and Germany have fought over 
the Rhine so much; France claiming it to be her natural 
boundary; Germany claiming both banks as essential to 
her defense. France got there under Napoleon, but 
Germany now has both banks, and means to hold them 
at whatever cost of men and money. And with her fifty 
millions of population against France's forty millions, 
and increasing rapidly, while France stands still, she bids 
fair to maintain her hold on Father Rhine. 

In two respects, I confess, the Rhine disappointed us. 
First, we did not expect to see such a busy and thriving 
region. We expected, of course, to find it picturesque 
and romantic; but we found it literally swarming with 
steamboats, freight-barges, and rafts, and an almost con- 
tinuous town and village, with a forest of smoke-stacks 
everywhere. Indeed the whole Rhine valley is now liter- 
ally a beehive of industry, and all Germany as well. The 
German Empire would be a bad thing for Americans; 
but the Germans like it, and are prosperous and con- 
tented under the "kaiser" beyond all manner of doubt. 
The Rhine Valley, indeed, reminds one of the Schuylkill 
and the Ohio, and the same air of business and of thrift 
is everywhere apparent. 

240 



Next, it was smaller and less beautiful than we an- The Rhine 
ticipated. From above Coblenz to near Cologne the 
Rhine passes through the Seven Mountains, and is cer- 
tainly picturesque and romantic, with its lofty bluffs, 
its ruined castles, and its historic associations. But the 
Ohio and the Tennessee are larger, the Hudson is more 
lordly and majestic, and the Columbia much surpasses 
it. I think its old castles are the chief thing. These 
crown every mountain and perch on every cliff, mostly 
in ruins from the Drachenfels down; and if we only had 
these ruined castles on the Hudson and the Columbia, 
what .rivers they would be ! There is nothing on the 
Rhine much finer than the Palisades and West Point, 
and nothing to compare with the passage of the Colum- 
bia through the Cascade Mountains, with Mount Hood 
looming in the distance, snowclad from base to summit, 
and piercing the very sky. After seeing all these at 
home, and enjoying them greatly, of course, we were 
too good Americans to "lower the flag" to anything 
German — not even the Rhine ! 

One thing, however, must be said for the Rhine- 
landers: as a rule, they have not suffered their fine 
scenery to be debased by signs and advertisements. One 
exception was between Coblenz and Cologne, where on 
a distant precipice we descried great white letters many 
feet high, which as we came nearer spelled out the magic 
American words, "Quaker Oats!" We saw the same 
thing back in the Tyrol, and it was the only American 
advertisement we did see there. 

The whole region, of course, is covered with vines 
and vineyards. The hills and mountains are terraced to 
their summits, and grapevines and trellises are every- 
16 24T 



European where in evidence. The vineyards are mainly between 
Days and Mayence and Cologne, a distance of less than one hun- 
WayS dred miles; and the best wines are produced only in the 
Rheingau, a picturesque district about twelve miles long, 
between Riidesheim and Biebrich. The well-known 
brands Johannisberger, Steinberger, Marcobrunner, etc., 
are all grown in this narrow compass, and the total value 
of the Rhine wine-crop is said to be fifteen to twenty 
millions of dollars annually. Its white wines are the best 
in the world, according to connoisseurs, but its red 
wines are not equal to Bordeaux. It was not yet the 
grape season, but the whole country-side seemed given 
up to wine, to the exclusion largely of beer even. Every- 
body, nearly, drank wine, and at some hotels and on the 
steamboats plain water was hardly to be had for love or 
money, unless one first ordered wine. When you asked 
for plain drinking water, the waiters would bring you 
soda-water, or Apollinaris, or stare wonderingly at you, 
evidently thinking, as they say down in Italy, that "only 
camels and Americans drink water !" And yet European 
water is everywhere good, as I personally know, because 
drinking it freely in every place where we stopped, espe- 
cially in the larger cities. And the quantities of wine 
they drink is amazing. On our boat coming down from 
Mayence to Coblenz, there were four young people at a 
table near us, and they drank twelve bottles of wine be- 
tween them in the course of the afternoon, and after 
landing we encountered them in a restaurant in the even- 
ing still drinking wine. And they were not intoxicated 
either — only a little flushed and merry. 

All down the Rhine we saw the German women 
everywhere at work the same as men, and often in most 

242 



toilsome labors. We saw them mowing, plowing, etc. German Vine- 
They were at work in the vineyards and harvest-fields yards and 
the same as men, and holding their own. In Munich we Women 
saw them "tending masons" — carrying mortar, bricks, 
and stones to workmen on new buildings — and along the 
Rhine we saw them loading and unloading barges, carry- 
ing great hampers or crates of lime, coal, and stone on 
their backs, as if they were oxen or horses. It seemed 
incredible that they could bear such burdens; but they 
had to do it, and did. 

Where were the German men? Nearly half a million 
of them withdrawn from civil life and in barracks and 
forts, keeping their "Watch on the Rhine," and prepared 
to fight both France and Russia, if necessary, in order 
to maintain their German nationality and German integ- 
rity. There did not seem to be much complaint. But 
all Germany is an armed camp — soldiers everywhere; 
and capital soldiers they are, too. Officers bright and 
intelligent; soldiers well set-up, alert, and active. Italy 
is nowhere compared with Germany on this line, and 
France can not "hold a candle" to her. The Dreyfus 
case told the tale, and revealed France in all her naked- 
ness and deformity. Germany is virile, modern, pro- 
gressive, prosperous, and the German nation a great and 
rare people. America and Germany ought to be friends, 
and must not be enemies, the Philippines and Samoa 
notwithstanding. 

All along the Rhine it is easy to see where our 
"Pennsylvania Dutch" came from. You see the same 
houses, the same wagons and farm implements (more 
antiquated), the same manners and customs, and many 
of the same names, and think you are home again, in- 

243 



European stead of three thousand miles away across the stormy 
Days and Atlantic. These people and ours in Pennsylvania 
Ways (Berks, Lebanon, Lancaster, York) are first cousins, 
if not brothers, speaking the same language and think- 
ing the same thoughts largely; and would America had 
more of them! They would make the very "bone and 
sinew" of any land, and no country of theirs in Europe 
or America could be otherwise than prosperous. 



244 




Chapter XXI 

E left Cologne August 16th, 2.30 P. M., and Amsterdam 
the same evening reached Amsterdam. It 
was an afternoon of ill luck, and for the first 
time we found the railroad officials uncivil 
and disobliging. We got into the wrong cars at Co- 
logne, after many inquiries, and just escaped being 
shunted off at Utrecht, and left there for the night. 
However, we got into the right cars at last, and duly 
reached Amsterdam. 

After getting well out of Cologne, it was soon ap- 
parent we were in a new country and among another 
people. The whole air of the landscape changed, and 
Holland seemed to be much behind Germany. The 
country became flat and the buildings poor and small, 
one-story brick usually, and the people seemed quite 
another race, as they really are. Evidently Holland 
would be a better and greater country if a part of Ger- 
many, and Germany looks upon her with longing eyes 
indeed; but the other Powers say nay, and the kaiser will 
have to be content with this for the present, though Ger- 
many only bides her time. With Amsterdam, Rotter- 
dam, and ready access to the sea, Germany would 
soon make Holland a great and progressive people 
again, and this is among the possibilities of the twentieth 
century, though Hollanders do not like to think so. 

245 



European Utrecht ("Oude Trecht," or Old Ford) the Trajec- 
DayS and turn ad Rhenam of the Romans, is one of the most ancient 
Ways towns in Holland, and a city of one hundred thousand 
people. The Rhine divides here into two arms, the Old 
Rhine falling into the North Sea, and the Vecht into 
the Zuyder Zee. It has an old cathedral (720), and an 
ancient University (1636), and other interesting things. 
But we hastened on to Amsterdam, without stopping. 
In passing, Utrecht seemed to be a nice old place, clean 
and well kept, and its environs are studded with many 
beautiful mansions and parks, with long rows of stately 
trees. Holland abounds in such nice old cities, and, if 
just a little sleepy, they must be nevertheless very rest- 
ful and kindly places to live in. 

Holland is the Netherlands or Low Country of Eu- 
rope, and is so called because so generally below the 
level of the sea and its own numerous canals. As you 
ride along in the cars you see vessels of all kinds sailing 
above you, as if navigating the air, and you wonder what 
would happen if the sea-dikes were to break or the canal 
banks give way. In very ancient times the whole region 
was evidently a swamp, the work of Father Rhine and 
his numerous branches; but it has been diked and 
ditched and drained by man's industry and skill until 
now it is one vast meadow and dairy farm.* It is not 
much given to grain, though wheat, barley, oats, and 
other grains grow on the higher levels; but delicious 
grass is everywhere, and it is the very paradise of horses, 
cows, sheep, pigs, ducks, and geese. The cows espe- 



*The Rhine has twelve hundred tributaries or feeders ; but loses itself 
in Holland, and passes into the sea by so many mouths that it is hard to 
say which is the Rhine really. 

246 



daily are beauties — black-and-red-striped Holsteins, in Holland- 
great numbers, and grazing everywhere in infinite con- UtrGGht 
tent. We saw more cows, sheep, and pigs grazing at 
large in the fields, during our first afternoon in Holland, 
than in all Germany, Switzerland, and Italy previously. 
The cows were large, sleek, and well cared for, as only 
Germans and Dutchmen know how to care for cows, and 
some even were blanketed. Here, also, we saw them 
yoked to wagons and carriages, as in Germany, and they 
moved at a pace quite surprising — for cows! 

Of course, there are wagon-roads everywhere, and 
good ones too, fine specimens of civil engineering. But 
her canals are Holland's chief highway, with wagon- 
roads often on their banks, and these serve a double pur- 
pose; first, as ditches or drains to her marshy and other- 
wise worthless land, making it invaluable for grazing 
and hay; and, secondly, as waterways, affording cheap 
and easy transporation. The canals bisect Holland 
everywhere, and are really a great triumph over nature. 
Her surplus water is pumped up into these by multi- 
tudinous windmills or little stationary engines, and the 
canals carry it out to sea. These canals literally swarm 
with all kinds of vessels and barges, propelled by all 
sorts of power, but chiefly sails and man-power. Men 
pole them slowly along, mile after mile, or they rig a 
rude harness to their shoulders and jump ashore and 
tow them along — sometimes half a dozen together. The 
women also assist with these vessels and barges, and 
do their share, if not more than their share, of all kinds 
of manual labor in Holland. 

Indeed, Holland may well be called the land of canals 
and windmills. From the time you enter Holland until 

247 



European you leave it you are never out of sight of windmills, and 
Days and these are made not only to pump water, but also to grind 
ways grain and aid in manufactures generally. Her canals all 
lead to the sea, and thus make Little Holland one vast 
seaport and her people one great nation of merchants 
and sailors, and hence her colossal commerce for cen- 
turies, as if she were one great metropolis like London 
or New York. The Dutch have literally conquered their 
land from the sea and the swamp, and Holland's coat- 
of-arms might well be the dike and the canal couchant, 
with the windmill rampant. 

We found Amsterdam to be a city of five hundred 
thousand, in the midst of marshes and sand-dunes, belted 
and threaded with canals — a real "Venice of the North," 
but with a better people than Venice ever had. She has 
canals everywhere, but has well paved streets also, brick 
chiefly, with wagons, cabs, and trolley cars. Her build- 
ings, while not lofty, are solid and substantial. Her 
enterprise and commerce belt the globe, and her mer- 
chants and bankers may well claim kinship with those 
of our New Amsterdam, and neither be ashamed of 
the other. 

The city lies at the influx or mouth of the Amstel 
into the Zuyder Zee, which has been dredged into an 
excellent harbor here. Originally there was a dam 
across the Amstel here, and hence the name Amsterdam. 
Rotterdam, Monnikendam, Zaandam, Schiedam, Edam, 
and other like-named Dutch cities originated in the same 
way. It is not a very old place — only about 1204 — but 
has had a great history. Its real importance and pros- 
perity date from the sixteenth century, when the Spanish 
had ruined Antwerp, and driven thousands of her mer- 

248 



chants, manufacturers, and artists into Holland for a AfflSterdam- 
new home. During the past century her trade has rap- "VeniGe Of 
idly increased, thousands of vessels entering and clearing the North" 
in a single year of late; and as the chief mart for the 
products of the Dutch Colonies — tobacco, coffee, rice, 
spices, and diamonds — she is indeed one of the first 
commercial places in Europe. 

Her situation is not good; her houses have all to be 
built on piles, and hence the jest of Erasmus that he 
knew a city "whose inhabitants dwell on the tops of trees 
like rooks." Her soil is loam and loose sand, upon which 
no heavy building can be erected, until piles be first 
driven into the firmer sand beneath, twenty-five to fifty 
feet; and hence buildings at Amsterdam often cost as 
much below the ground as above it. Sometimes, indeed, 
a heavy edifice sinks into the sand and mud, the piles 
being inadequate to support it and its contents.* Canals 
of various sizes divide the city into nearly one hundred 
islands, which are connected by nearly three hundred 
bridges, like Venice. The water in these canals varies ' 
from three to five feet, and is kept clean and sweet by 
constant renewals from the sea. The cost of keeping 
and maintaining the canals, dikes, and bridges is esti- 
mated at several thousand florins per day. But the very 
safety of the city depends on these, and any serious de- 
fect or break would expose Amsterdam to being put 
many feet under water. 

Her great North Sea Canal, connecting her with the 
North Sea, is fifteen miles long, but saves her shipping 
an exasperating voyage of fifty miles. It is sixty-five 

* In 1822 a great warehouse, built for the Bast India Company, sank 
into the mud, with thirty- five hundred tons of grain. 

249 



European yards wide, by twenty-two feet deep, with great locks 
Days and capable of accommodating the largest seagoing craft, 
Ways and with breakwaters, lighthouses, and everything com- 
plete. The total cost was 35,000,000 florins, of which 
Amsterdam paid part, the reclaimed land a part, and 
Holland the rest. But it makes Amsterdam and Holland 
one vast seaport forever. 

We stopped at the "Bible Hotel," in the heart of the 
city, where one Jacob Liesveld, in 1542, printed the first 
Dutch Bible, as said, and had to flee the city because of 
it. He escaped to Leyden or Antwerp, but was caught 
by the Inquisition and brought back and burned for his 
wicked act. Our hotel was erected on the spot where 
his printing-office stood, and contains a copy of his old 
Bible. We found it a good place to stop at, and much 
patronized by Americans. Our only objection was, it 
was too close to the churches, whose bells rang all night, 
every quarter of an hour or so — as bad as down in 
Italy — and thus murdered sleep, "tired nature's sweet 
restorer, balmy sleep," rather more than we liked. In- 
deed, they played a short tune every quarter of an hour, 
and a longer one at the full hours, until their tintinnabu- 
lation became a tribulation difficult to bear. I know 
George Herbert wrote 

"Think when the bells do chime, 
'T is angels' music ;" 

but that was for English lanes, and not the streets of 
Amsterdam. 

The weather was dull and raw — a great change from 
the Rhine — but we wandered through the city and saw 
considerable of it. The architecture is unmistakably 

250 



Dutch, but it is good and solid. The old Royal Palace, Amster- 
the Exchange, the university, the Nieuwe Kerk, the dam — 
Zoological Garden, and the Jewish Quarter are all places DlltGh Art 
of interest, and order and cleanliness prevail. The good 
Dutch housewife is everywhere in evidence, with broom, 
brush, and cloth, and what she can not accomplish in the 
way of cleaning or scouring is not worth doing at all. 
Along many streets are handsome rows of trees and 
stately residences, and Amsterdam evidently makes the 
most of her situation. 

The best thing we saw there, however, was the Ryks 
Museum, in the heart of the city — an imposing building 
covering an entire block nearly, erected only recently, 
but representative of all Holland, both ancient and mod- 
ern. It is in the Early Dutch Renaissance style, with 
many Gothic and Romanesque features, and adorned 
with sculpture and mosaics. Here are costumes, armors, 
weapons, models of ships and machines, illustrating 
every phase of Dutch history; old Delft ware, porcelain 
and lacquer work; engravings, coins, manuscripts, 
books; and a collection of paintings and portraits of all 
the schools, Italian, French, Spanish, as well as Dutch, 
that is most creditable to Little Holland. Its portraits 
of naval heroes and pictures of sea-fights — Admiral Van 
Tromp, De Ruyter, and others — recall the best days of 
the Dutch navy, and remind one of the great war paint- 
ings at Venice even. Here, also, are choice pictures 
by Jordaens, Teniers, Van der Heist, Franz Hals, Jan 
Steen, Paul Potter, Van Dyck, Rubens, and the Dutch 
and Flemish masters generally. Many of these are very 
fine; but I think one is struck with the convivial air of 
most of them, as if the chief end of life in those old 

251 



European Dutch and Flemish days was eating and drinking. Be- 
DayS and sides these, there is a whole roomful of Rembrandts, and 
Ways his great "Night Watch" particularly, his largest and 
most celebrated work, which of itself is worth a voyage 
across the Atlantic to see. Why it was called the "'Night 
Watch" nobody seems to know. It represents a com- 
pany of arquebusiers coming out of their doelen or 
guildhouse, and evidently going out to a shooting- 
match in the daytime. The costumes and weapons of 
the officers and soldiers are remarkable, and the life and 
spirit of the flag-bearer and drummer really speaking. 
Two lively children, one with a cockerel — evidently the 
prize to be contended for — add to the interest of the 
scene. The remarkable chiaroscuro of the picture has 
led some to believe that it was a "Night W r atch;" but 
the event evidently took place in daylight, and the ex- 
traordinary lights and shadows of the picture are such 
as only Rembrandt himself could paint. Altogether it 
is a most remarkable and dramatic picture, and, ever 
since its painting, has been enthusiastically admired by 
all lovers of good art. There are no engravings that do 
it even scant justice. It was surrounded by a group of 
admirers the day we were there, and we shall carry it in 
our memories as a precious recollection forever, like the 
great picture of "The Assumption" by Titian, at Venice. 
It is an immense painting, eleven by fourteen feet, tak- 
ing up the whole side of the "Rembrandt room;" but 
we would not wish it to be any smaller. If the great 
Dutch painter had done nothing more than the "Night 
Watch," his fame would have been secure forever. 

Of course, we went down to Marken, a curious old 
fishing suburb of Amsterdam, on an island in the Zuyder 

252 



Zee. We went by a little steamboat, down a great canal, 
past Broek in Waterland — said to be the cleanest place 
in the world — to Monnikendam, and so to Marken. At 
all of these villages the people wear only wooden shoes, 
and drop them at the door when they enter their dwell- 
ing-houses, ready to put on when they come out again. 
How they ever keep them on their feet is a mystery, 
they are so big and unwieldy. But they do, and the 
boys and girls go scurrying along the streets or the 
towpaths with 
them on as if they 
were light as 
feathers. The 
streets are paved 
with brick, with 
not an ounce of 
dirt anywhere, 
and even the very 
trees look as if 
they were washed 
and scoured. The 
houses also are mainly of brick, with now and then one 
of frame (very old), and their furnishings are simple 
and antique. 

At Monnikendam, we saw two dogs harnessed to a 
little carriage, and drawing too half-grown boys along 
quite smartly. In the heart of the village we saw a large 
dog drawing a baker's cart, and the baker also occasion- 
ally. When it came to an ascent or a hard pull, the 
baker would jump off and push behind. But he would 
soon jump on again, and the dog trotted along as if he 
could pull the load easily. The Dutch believe in making 

253 



Marken 




Main 

Street, 

Marken. 



European everybody work, even their cows and dogs, as well as 
Days and women. In Switzerland and Germany they use only 
Ways large dogs, and they gear them side by side with the 
man or woman; but here in Holland they use dogs of 
any kind, and they hitch them under the cart or wagon, 
to little singletrees of their own, and, first and last, these 
thrifty Dutchmen get a prodigious amount of work out 
of their dogs even. We saw them in use in Amsterdam 
and everywhere, and often pulling and tugging so hard 

that we could 
well believe 
"working like a 
dog" to be an old 
Dutch saying. 

At Marken we 
found everything 
quaint and curi- 
ous. There is 
only a handful of 
people here, but 
they seem to have 
come down from the Middle Ages. Their houses are 
mere rookeries of logs and boards, though some are of 
brick, one story, with red-tile roofs and small windows 
and doors, but clean as wax inside. Instead of beds and 
bedsteads, they have closets or lockers in the walls, 
which shut up in the daytime and open at night. Their 
array of blue crockery-ware — some of it real old Delft — 
is a sight to see, and the gold and silver head-dresses of 
the women, and their garments generally, seem more fit 
for a museum than the nineteenth century. The men, 
in their baggy trousers and wooden shoes and woolen 

254 




Women 

Carrying 

Hay, 

Marken. 



caps, appear to have stepped out of some old Dutch 
painting, or to be ''comrades true" of Hendrik Hudson 
and Peter Stuyvesant. We tried to buy some of the 
blue ware and other quaint articles, but found they were 
all regarded as heirlooms. These people live by fishing, 
and many of them have never been off their little sand- 
spit, not even to Amsterdam. They maintain their an- 
cient customs and costumes; as did their ancestors, so 
do they; but they also have a little church and school- 
house, and a 
mayor and police 
officer, and thus 
doze away the 
centuries. Out- 
side of their 
houses they have 
great flocks of 
ducks and geese, 
paddling about 
the drains and 
ditches, as every- 
where in Holland. But they seldom see a newspaper, 
and the whole outside world, with its facts and its 
doings, is as a sealed book to them. They might as well 
be clams or oysters; and we were glad to quit these 
"children of nature," and get back to Amsterdam again. 



Marken— 
Queer People 




Natives, 
Marken. 



255 



Chapter XXII 



mm 



E left Amsterdam, August 18th, at 2.45 
P. M., and, passing Haarlem and Leyden, 
arrived at The Hague about 6 P. M. Hol- 
land is truly "Little Holland," and it does 
not take long to travel from one of her cities to an- 
other. En route we had canals and windmills again 
always in evidence, as before reaching Amsterdam, and 
the same widespread meadows covered with cows and 
sheep, ducks and geese. Here and there we encoun- 
tred sand-dunes and pine-barrens, with long stretches 
of canals, and now and then hyacinth and tulip farms, 
with gladiolas and other bulbs also in cultivation. The 
Hollanders grow and export these all over the world, 
and indeed make quite an account of their bulb 
business. 

At The Hague we found the hotels full, but finally 
secured quarters at the Hotel Vieux Doelen, or "Old 
Shooting Gallery." This is an old-established house 
there, dating back to 1382, and said to have been a 
hotel since 1635. It boasts of having entertained all 
the American ministers for years, and many of the com- 
missioners at the great Peace Congress here in 1899. 
It fronts on one of the chief squares, in the heart of 
the city; it has a spacious reception-room, dining-room, 
and parlors; and, after the first day, we had excellent 

256 



accommodations there. The tradition is, that the The Hague 
counts of Holland and their nobles used to go to shoot- 
ing matches or target-practice here at The Hague 
(properly S. Graven Hage or den Haag — the Count's 
Hedge or Inclosure), and when they got through they 
used this old hotel as their clubhouse or banqueting- 
hall. It looks old enough and spacious enough for this 
old story to be true, and we found it crowded with 
pleasant people. 

The Hague is the capital of Little Holland, and a 
goodly city of about two hundred thousand people. 
It is an old historic town, and for centuries has been 
the favorite residence of the Dutch princes; rich in great 
memories, but of no industrial or commercial impor- 
tance. No town in Holland has so many broad and 
handsome streets, and spacious and imposing buildings 
and squares; but it has little modern business, except 
politics. The titled and the wealthy of all Holland 
have long made it their home, and concentrated their 
taste and money here; and hence its superior beauty 
and charm, its wide streets, imposing mansions, and 
superb trees and parks. In the matter of shade-trees 
and parks, I know of no American city to equal it, not 
even Cleveland, with its Euclid Avenue and parks. 

The natural soil at The Hague is loose and sandy; 
but the Dutch began to plant beeches, chestnuts, and 
lindens here centuries ago, and have kept it up, along 
all their streets and canals, and in great parks as well, 
and have taken loving care of them, mingling mud and 
muck with their unkindly sand; and as the result they 
have now one of the most beautiful cities in the world, 
and they intend to keep it so. 
i7 257 



European Here William the Silent, the George Washington 

Days and of the Netherlands, lived and breathed defiance to 
Ways Spain and the Inquisition, and gave battle to them both, 
and whipped them, over three hundred years ago. It 
is true he was assassinated, like Abraham Lincoln; but 
his spirit survived and made the Dutch Republic, and 
still survives in Little Holland. The Hague has two 
stately statues of him in its public squares — one eques- 
trian — and several superb portraits in its museums; and 
as you gaze upon these, you can not help thinking 
that the great Dutchman would have made an excel- 
lent American. He had the same humane spirit and 
generous heart and open-mindedness that Lincoln had, 
and the same passionate love of civil and religious lib- 
erty that all Americans boast. But he was three 
centuries ahead of Abraham Lincoln and William Mc- 
Kinley. Well may the Hollanders call him "The Father 
of their Fatherland !" 

The Binnenhof, an irregular pile of buildings, some 
of them of mediaeval origin, stands near the center of 
the town, and was once surrounded by a moat. The 
whole pile has an antiquated air, and one can well be- 
lieve in its alleged origin — about 1250. In the little 
square in front of it, John Barneveldt, the Grand Pen- 
sionary or Prime Minister of Holland, was beheaded 
in 1 61 9, in his seventy-second year, "for having con- 
spired to dismember the States of the Netherlands, and 
greatly troubled God's Church." History is not clear 
that poor Barneveldt was guilty, but for a like crime 
in part we allowed Jefferson Davis (certainly guilty) 
to go "scot free" in 1865, and I judge no American 
now regrets it, though in old war days we used to sing> 

258 



"We '11 hang Jeff Davis on a sour apple-tree !" Just The Hague — 
beyond is another old building, formerly used by the DlltGh Art 
Spanish Inquisition; and here they show you the old and Artists 
dungeons, and an old torture-chamber where they put 
heretics to starve to death, while beneath was the 
prison kitchen from which the odors of cooking as- 
cended to the starving prisoners. What hideous cruelty 
and diabolical ingenuity those old Spanish priests had, 
and how can history execrate them sufficiently? No 
wonder that mysterious power "which makes for right- 
eousness" afterwards, in due time, broke Spain as "with 
a rod of iron," and dashed her world-wide empire "in 
pieces as a potter's vessel !" 

The Town Hall, the Groote Kerk, and the Munic- 
ipal Museum are well worth seeing, as also the "House 
in the Wood," the royal villa where the Peace Congress 
sat. But the best thing at The Hague, it seems to me, 
after William the Silent and her old Binnenhof, is her 
National Picture Gallery, just beyond the Binnenhof. 
Here is Paul Potter's famous "Bull," painted in 1647, 
that was over to our Centennial in 1876, and which 
has no superior in Europe. Here also is Rembrandt's 
celebrated "School of Anatomy," painted for the Am- 
sterdam guild of surgeons in 1632, and scarcely inferior 
to his famous "Night Watch." It is a picture of a 
distinguished anatomist lecturing to a group of sur- 
geons, while he dissects a corpse on a table before him 
and explains its anatomy, and nothing could be more 
real and lifelike. Then there are other Potters and 
Rembrandts by the score, and masterpieces by Jan 
Steen, Terburg, Gerard Dow, Teniers, Jordaens, Ruys- 
dael, Van der Meer, Velasquez, Murillo, and Holbein, 

259 



European and Rubenses without number. The Rembrandts and 
Days and Steens here are numerous and superior, and one can 
Ways not help enjoying this gallery very much. Jan Steen 
especially grows upon you the more you see of him, 
and some of his creations are really wonderful. One 
of his pictures here is a "Physician Feeling a Young 
Lady's Pulse," and it is exquisite in its humor. An- 
other is a "Picture of Life," and contains about twenty 
persons. While the elders are enjoying their oysters, 
the children are playing with a dog and cat. Jan Steen 
himself plays a merry air, while ogling a young woman, 
and a portly boor is laughing, glass in hand. In the 
background are card-players and smokers. Another is 
known as the "Menagerie." It represents a platform, 
with a brook flowing by it, and an old leafless tree on 
the right with a peacock on it. Ducks are paddling in 
the water, and fowls and pigeons picking up grain from 
the ground. On one of the steps sits a girl with a saucer 
of milk, feeding a lamb. A baldheaded manservant 
with a basket of eggs is addressing her, while another 
standing on the platform with a fowl under his arm 
looks at her laughingly. Another is a "Portrait of Jan 
Steen and Family," and consists of eleven persons. 
The principal place at the table, of course, is occupied 
by Jan Steen himself — a figure with long hair and a 
broad hat, laughing and smoking, and about to drink. 
On his left is his wife, a corpulent lady, filling a pipe, 
apparently for her own use. In front is Jan's aged 
mother, dandling a grandchild on her knees; while by 
the fireside is his father in spectacles, singing from 
a sheet of music, to the accompaniment of a flute played 
by Jan's eldest son, a likely lad, almost a man. In the 

260 



foreground are a dog, some copper household utensils, Tll6 Hague — 
a mortar, etc. These scenes are all homely, but most DlltGh Artists 
lifelike and real, and Jan Steen must have been a great 
artist in his line after all. His paintings are not large, 
but they are instinct with life and action, and we en- 
joyed them greatly. This collection of paintings was 
begun by the princes of the House of Orange in 1647, 
and the Dutch rulers have kept it up ever since. The 
French plundered it in the time of Napoleon I; but 
after his downfall most of the stolen pictures were re- 
turned, and the catalogue now numbers several hun- 
dred paintings, most of them of a high order. But 
here, as at Amsterdam, we were struck with the social 
and convivial character of so many of them, as if Dutch- 
men never tired of drinking and feasting; and there- 
fore when a Dutch painter sits down to paint he is 
pretty sure to depict the good things of this life, and 
especially "the pleasures of the table." How these old 
Dutch burghers must have liked to eat and drink and 
smoke! And their descendants are not unworthy of 
them, judging by what we saw of good Hollanders 
at home. 

Some three or four miles away, down by the North 
Sea, lies Scheveningen, the seaside resort of The Hague; 
and a charming place it is. It is not Newport nor Long 
Branch, but more like Elberon and Atlantic City. Orig- 
inally it was an old fishing village, like Seabright, and 
practices that industry still; but it has blossomed out 
into a first-class watering-place of twenty thousand in- 
habitants or more, with a superb Curhaus, splendid 
hotels; and a magnificent avenue leads down to it 
from The Hague, laid out centuries ago, with eight 

261 



European or ten rows of handsome shade-trees, a tramway in the 
Days and middle, a carriage drive on one side, and an equestrian 
W/ayS path on the other, with footwalks on both sides, and 
a great park much of the way, flanked with beautiful 
villas. It has the same high sand-dunes as Asbury 
Park and Spring Lake used to have; but these have 
been left ungraded, and Scheveningen undulates all 
over these. A high tide once swallowed up half of 
the town, leaving its little Gothic church (erected 1472) 
at the west end of the place, instead of the middle as 
formerly; but Scheveningen has forgotten all this, and 
revels in her summer visitors. It has a splendid beach, 
surpassing even Atlantic City and Cape May, and its 
bath-houses are on wheels. When a bather enters one 
of these, a horse is hitched on and trots out into the 
surf with the bath-house, and wheels around; he is then 
unhitched and driven ashore, while the bather descends 
from the rear of the bath-house into the sea. When 
through with his bath, the horse comes out and draws 
bath-house and bather back to shore again. 

They have no big ''board walk," but the beach is 
protected by a solid stone wall, backed with sand, for 
a long distance, and this is paved, as well as the streets 
and roads at Scheveningen, with hard red bricks. Brick 
pavements, indeed, are used extensively at The Hague, 
and in all the Dutch cities, for roadways, as they have 
been since the thirteenth century, and they have ad- 
vantages over asphalt, even, especially in wet or icy 
weather, horses not slipping so easily. They use them 
for twenty years, and then take them up as needed, 
and reverse them and use the other side until worn out. 
We went down to Scheveningen by what is called 
262 



the New Road, by an electric tramway, that skirted The Hape 
a canal and half way down crossed it, lined with beau- 
tiful residences much of the way, and everything clean 
as a pin. The Hague is even cleaner than Amsterdam; 
and what more can one say? We returned by the Old 
Road, on top of horse-cars, through the beautiful avenue 
and park above spoken of, and enjoyed every foot of the 
ride. The Hague has fewer canals than Amsterdam, and 
they are all supplied with sea-water, constantly pumped 
in and flowing out, and with only occasional boats pass- 
ing to and fro, propelled chiefly by man-power. 

We were at The Hague several days, detained by 
the illness of two of our party, and one day went back 
to Leyden. We found it to be a venerable old place, 
with only about fifty thousand population, though for- 
merly it numbered one hundred thousand. It is sit- 
uated on the Old Rhine, the sluggish waters of which 
flow through the town in canal-like arms. In the six- 
teenth century it sustained a terrible siege by the Span- 
iards, lasting nearly a year, when William of Orange 
ordered the dikes to be pierced and the sea let in, thus 
inundating the country and drowning out the Spaniards; 
a heroic remedy, but it ended the siege. 

Leyden presents many picturesque mediaeval fea- 
tures, especially its old city gates — the remains of its 
old fortifications — its old Burg, its old Stadhuis, its 
old museum, and old university. We took a horse- 
car ride down its old Breestraat, and could well believe 
ourselves back in another age. Its Burg is a great 
circular mound of earth, in the heart of the town, and 
undoubtedly of very ancient origin, either Roman or 
Saxon. What a history it has had, and what a tale 

263 



European it could tell if it only had a tongue! It has a great 
Days and well or cistern on top, and has seen many a battle, and 
ways stood many a siege. We climbed up its sides, and 
ascended its old brick walls, and had a fine view of 
Leyden and the surrounding country and distant sea. 
Its old Stadhuis has a lofty flight of steps in front, 
surmounted by quaint Dutch lions, upholding the arms 
of the city, and is a fine example of the Dutch style 
of the sixteenth century. Its interior is much as it 
was in the fifteenth century. It has some good carved 
paneling, very old, and over the side entrance on the 
north is the following inscription: "When the Black 
Famine had brought to death nearly six thousand of 
our people, then God the Lord repented of it, and gave 
us bread again, as much as we could wish" — referring 
to the great siege of 1574. Its lofty spire is quaint and 
picturesque, and adds much to the attractiveness of the 
venerable old edifice. 

Its museums contain much of interest, and its old 
university has one thousand students still, and a library 
of nearly two hundred thousand volumes. It was 
founded in 1575 by William of Orange, who after the 
great Spanish siege of 1574 offered to reward Leyden 
for its gallant conduct either by exempting its citizens 
from taxes for a certain number of years, or by estab- 
lishing a university there. The temptation was great, 
for her losses had been many and heavy. But Leyden 
chose the better part, and so got her university. Its 
fame soon extended throughout Europe, and the 
greatest scholars of their age — Grotius, Scaliger, Boer- 
haave, Arminius, and others — resided and wrote here. 
The "Leyden Jar" was first invented here, and Leyden 

. 264 



still enjoys a high reputation as a seat of learning, es- Leyden 
pecially in natural science and medicine. Most of the 
professors teach at their private residences, some of 
them still in Latin, though some lecture in the uni- 
versity halls. . 

Leyden impresses you as a quaint old place, as a 
true Dutch city of the olden times, with a pensive and 
melancholy air, but well repays a visit there. We took 
lunch at an excellent restaurant near the old Stadhuis, 
and afterwards saw a Dutch regiment marching out to 
the suburbs for inspection and drill. The men were 
undersized somewhat, compared with German soldiers, 
but were clean and well equipped, and moved with an 
alacrity and spirit that spoke well for their discipline. 
They seemed to have true "grip and grit," and doubt- 
less were worthy descendants of their gallant and heroic 
ancestors. 

Altogether we were in Holland over a week, and, 
as a whole, it was true Dutch weather. We did not 
see the sun once while there, but only a dull gray sky 
from day to day, always threatening to rain, but never 
raining. The weather was raw and cool, and we al- 
ways needed thick clothing, and usually an overcoat 
as well. They told us it was not always that kind of 
weather in August; but this is what we found, and we 
were glad to get away, notwithstanding all the great 
names and heroic past of brave Little Holland. 



26: 




Chapter XXIII 

E left The Hague, August 22cl, at 9.30 A. M., 
and a three hours' ride by railroad brought 
us to Brussels. We passed Delft, Rotter- 
dam, and Antwerp en route, but did not stop 
to see either of them. It was so raw and cool, and 
we were so tired of Holland weather, that we were 
eager to get into Belgium. Delft is a quaint old Dutch 
city of some thirty thousand inhabitants, renowned for 
its windmills and blue crockery-ware. Like Leyden, it 
has a "pensive and melancholy air," as if it had seen 
better days, and the very cows and sheep grazing in 
the surrounding meadows seemed to be old-fashioned 
also. Rotterdam and Antwerp are more considerable 
cities, with two hundred thousand inhabitants each, 
and of real commercial importance. Rotterdam, of 
course, is in Holland, and is next after Amsterdam as 
a place of business, both being great entrepots for the 
trade and travel of the Rhine Valley, and indeed all 
Germany. Antwerp is in Belgium, and is its chief sea- 
port and entrepot, as well as great arsenal and fort. 
It is heavily fortified on modern principles, and is in- 
tended as a rendezvous for the Belgian army, if com- 
pelled to retire before a superior enemy; and they say 
it would require an army of three hundred thousand 
men to besiege it effectually, and at least a year to 

266 



reduce it by starvation. In 1564 it was the most pros- Antwerp 
perous and wealthy city in Europe, surpassing even 
Venice itself. But the Spanish sacked it in 1576, putting 
seven thousand of its inhabitants to death by fire and 
sword. Then the Duke of Parma, in 1585, besieged 
it for over a year, and in 1589 its population had dwin- 
dled from one hundred and twenty-five thousand to 
fifty-five thousand, and soon to forty thousand. Now 
again it has recovered its prosperity, and is an active 
and growing place. We were sorry to miss its old 
cathedral and museums, and its great masterpieces by 
Rubens and others — particularly his famous "Descent 
from the Cross" — and the Van Dyck Exhibition then 
open there. But we had seen a good many Van Dycks 
and Rubenses already, and expected to see more, and 
must needs hasten on. My chief recollection of Rotter- 
dam and Antwerp is many canals and boats, and a forest 
of masts, with rows of warehouses inside and wide- 
spreading meadows outside, dotted with cattle and 
horses. It was a real panorama while it lasted, but soon 
over and gone. 

Belgium lies higher than Holland, and we soon 
passed from meadow-land to grainfields, and there are 
no better farmers on the Continent than the Belgians. 
They had already finished their harvesting, and grain- 
stacks appeared everywhere, as neat and trim as if made 
by English or American farmers. We here saw our 
first reapers and binders, and Belgium knows how both 
to use and make them. Tittle Belgium is not a very 
big country, but she literally swarms with cities and 
towns, and villages are everywhere. We never saw a 
denser population anywhere. She is a little larger than 

267 



European New Jersey; has about eleven thousand square miles 
Days and to New Jersey's eight thousand; is one hundred and fifty 
Ways miles long by one hundred and ten wide only; but she 
contains nearly seven million inhabitants, against New 
Jersey's one million five hundred thousand, and the 
Belgians are an active, industrious, and prosperous 
people. They are a larger and more robust race than 
the Hollanders, bigger even than the German, and, as 
a whole, I have never seen finer-looking men and women 
anywhere. They keep a standing army of fifty thou- 
sand men, capable of expansion to one hundred and fifty 
thousand in war times, and pay their king 4,000,000 
francs a year, or $800,000; and though a pretty good 
king, as European kings go, yet King Leopold does not 
begin to compare with President Roosevelt, whom we 
pay $50,000 a year only ! 

Brussels, the capital of Belgium, is a fine city of 
about five hundred thousand, her suburbs included. 
She dates back to the eighth century, when there was 
a village here called "Broeksele," or Marsh-dwelling. 
The city consists of the heights and the lower parts; 
the former occupied by the aristocracy and better 
classes, the latter by the trading and lower classes. 
There was always a well-defined difference between 
the two, and it continues to this day. We found good 
quarters upon the heights, near the Boulevard Waterloo, 
and our invalids were soon rejoicing in a warm and 
genial sunshine again. Indeed, it was a complete change 
of climate from Holland, and it continued so while 
we were in Belgium. Brussels has fine streets, and 
handsome houses, and beautiful parks, and in many 
respects is indeed Paris in miniature, as her citizens 

268 



claim. She leveled her old walls many years ago, and Brussels 
converted their wide spaces into broad boulevards, with 
five and six rows of stately trees, encircling the city, 
reserving only an ancient gate or mediaeval tower here 
and there. Here are superb walks and drives, with 
electric lamps blazing at night, making it light as day, 
and her people are pardonably very proud of their city. 
Her old gates and towers, still standing and well pre- 
served, lend interest to the city, and are well worth 
seeing. It is an old saying in Belgium that "Brussels 
rejoices in noble men, Antwerp in money, Ghent in 
halters, Bruges in pretty girls, Louvain in learned men, 
and Malines in fools;" and you can not pass along her 
streets and see her citizens without thinking that Brus- 
sels well maintains her reputation. 

Belgium also is famed for its fine horses, both sad- 
dle and draught, and we saw more private carriages 
and horses, and better and faster horses, in Brussels 
than anywhere else on the Continent. It was a pleas- 
ure to see them go, and reminded one of home. Here, 
also, we struck many "automobiles," and they went 
skimming everywhere along the superb streets and 
parks. Of course, Brussels has electric tramways, both 
overhead and underground — one of them literally belt- 
ing the city — and great omnibuses besides; but no 
canals worth mentioning, after Amsterdam, Rotterdam, 
and Antwerp. 

Brussels has old cathedrals and churches (as St. Gud- 
ule and Notre Dame, A. D. 1204-1302), but they are 
chiefly remarkable for elaborate wood-carvings and 
stained-glass windows. An old pulpit in her Notre 
Dame is curiously carved, with a cow, an ass, a rooster, 

269 



European and a whole lot of chubby angels and cherubs. But 
Days and otherwise the old church is a disappointment. There 
Ways are no paintings in them worth considering, but the 
windows are fine, especially in St. Gudule, many of 
them dating back to the thirteenth century, and with 
a delicacy of design and a richness of coloring that our 
modern window-builders can not equal. There are 
some modern windows here, too; but they are glaring 
and garish, and one wonders why stained glass has be- 
come one of the lost arts and can not be recovered. 

Belgium has a magnificent "Palace of Justice" here 
in Brussels, where her law courts of all kinds are housed. 
It is a huge and massive pile, adapted from the Assyrian 
and Grseco-Roman styles, five hundred and ninety feet 
long by five hundred and sixty feet wide, nearly square, 
and is said to be "the largest architectural work of the 
nineteenth century." It is larger than our Capitol at 
Washington (seven hundred and fifty-two feet by three 
hundred and forty-seven feet), but cost one-third less. 
This "Palace of Justice" is on the highest point in Brus- 
sels, and dominates the whole city and landscape, and 
it is marvelous that Little Belgium could design and 
erect such an edifice. It covers more ground than 
St. Peter's at Rome. It is embellished with colossal 
figures of Justice, Law, Strength, and Clemency, and 
also with statues of Demosthenes, Lycurgus, Cicero, 
Ulpian, and other noted characters, and surprises the 
passing tourist. Of course, its great dome is sur- 
mounted b*y a cross and a gilded Belgic Crown, which 
is not half so nice as our Goddess of Liberty. In effect 
it is heavy and gloomy; but nevertheless it is a fine 
modern building, and a credit to Little Belgium. We 

270 



went in to see her law courts and judges, and observe 
how things were conducted over there; but found all 
adjourned until October. 

Brussels has also her old Hotel de Ville, or City 
Hall, which dates back to, or was begun, A. D. 1402. 
It is one hundred and ninety-eight feet long by one hun- 
dred and sixty-five deep, and incloses a spacious court, 
thus securing light and air both inside and outside. 
It is surmounted by an old tower, beautiful and grace- 
ful beyond de- 
scription, three 
hundred and sev- 
enty feet high, 
and this is 
crowned by a 
gilded statue of 
the Archangel 
Michael, sixteen 
feet in height, 
though apparently 
only of man-size, 
which serves as a weather-vane to the whole city. This 
old Town Hall is literally covered on the outside with 
a multitude of statues and carvings of both men and 
animals; and inside it is rich with tapestries, paintings, 
portraits, and wood-carvings, that must have cost the 
city thousands and tens of thousands of dollars — and 
more. But Brussels has been five hundred years in 
doing it. Wait until some of our American cities get 
to be five hundred years older and wiser, and likely 
we, too, shall then have "Hotels de Ville" worthy of 
our City Fathers. 

271 



Brussels 




Hotel de 
Ville, 

Brussels. 



European In front of this old Hotel de Ville is the Grande 

Days and Place, or marketplace, one hundred and twenty yards 
Ways long by seventy-four wide — one of the finest mediaeval 
squares in Europe, and renowned in the annals of Bel- 
gium. Here, in 1568, twenty-five great Flemish nobles, 
including Counts Egmont and Horn, were beheaded 
by the cruel but "thorough" Duke of Alva, for no other 
crime than patriotism. It is surrounded by the Halle 
au Pain, an ancient prison (now a museum), and old 
Guild Houses; such as the Hall of the Butchers, the 
Hall of the Archers, the Hall of the Skippers, the Hall 
of the Carpenters, the Hall of the Tailors, and the public 
weigh-house, with its ancient scales and weights. All 
these are antique and grand in their way, not to say 
gorgeous, and we have nothing like them in the United 
States. 

In another little square not far away (Petit Sablon) 
rises the monument of Counts Egmont and Horn, 
which formerly stood in front of the Hall au Pain, but 
afterwards was removed here. The lower part is a 
fountain, above which rise two colossal figures in bronze, 
representing Egmont and Horn on their way to exe- 
cution. They are surrounded by ten marble statues 
of celebrated contemporaries, and the whole is inclosed 
by an artistic railing, with forty-eight small bronze 
figures on the pillars, representing the Artistic and In- 
dustrial Guilds of the sixteenth century. These last 
are very quaint and ingenious, and well worth one's 
study. The little square abounds in roses and flower- 
beds, and it is a lovely little nook to linger in, when 
tired out with sight-seeing, as one often is. 

Brussels has a fine old park, down in the heart of 
2 7 2 



the city, originally a hunting-ground of the Dukes of Brussels 
Brabant, adorned with fountains and statues, and much 
frequented by the people, and a very extensive one 
(some four hundred and fifty acres) in its suburbs, called 
the "Bois" or the "Bois de la Cambre." You reach 
this latter from the Boulevard Waterloo by the broad 
and handsome Avenue Louise, which is bordered by 
many elegant new houses, and traversed by a good 
electric tramway. It is a lovely ride of two miles or 
so, and the "Bois" itself is charming and delightful of 
an evening, with music, carriages, and equestrians, as 
the day we were there. All Brussels seemed to be there 
that evening, and everybody and his wife to be enjoying 
themselves. 

Down in the town are the Royal Palace, and the 
National Palace where the Senate and Deputies meet, 
and the National Bank, and the Bourse, or Chamber of 
Commerce; but they did not interest us. The most 
striking thing we saw down there were the great open- 
air cafes and restaurants, of an evening, thronged by 
thousands eating, drinking, and smoking, both male 
and female. These were something new and un-Ameri- 
can, and reminded one of Rome, Florence, and Venice. 
The music was always good, and though beer and wine 
flowed freely, no drunkenness was observable. There 
must be something in the climate, as well as in "the 
custom of the country," to enable people to indulge so 
freely. 

, The old fire-engine houses we saw down there bore 

the quaint legend, "Succor in Case of Fire," or "Help 

against Fire," though exactly how helpful they might 

prove we had no opportunity of determining; but doubt- 

18 273 



European less, Belgium-like, her fire engines would give a good 

Days and account of themselves when called on. 

Ways Of course, we visited her picture galleries, both 
ancient and modern, and found them very good. They 
are both free to the public on certain days, with a small 
charge on other days, and their educating and uplifting 
influence must be very great. Here everybody can see 
Rubens, Rembrandt, the Van Eycks, Van der Weyden, 
Van Broeckhoven, Jan Steen, Teniers, Dow, Gallait, 
Leys, Jordaens, Robbe, Wauters, Montigny, and the 
other great Dutch and Flemish masters, as well as Van 
Dyck, Paul Veronese, and Perugino, and drink in their 
souls at will. There is a painting there by Gallait of 
the "Abdication of Charles V" that is a masterpiece 
of composition, drawing, and coloring. There is an- 
other by Biefve, "The Compromise or Petition of the 
Netherland Nobles in 1565," with portraits of Egmont, 
Horn, William of Orange, Montigny, and others, that 
it would be hard to beat. There are others by Rubens, 
his "Adoration of the Magi," "Coronation of the 
Virgin," "Virgin and Child in an Arbor of Roses," and 
"Four Moors' Heads," that are very fine. There is a 
portrait of the Duke of Alva, by More, that looks the 
great butcher he was. There is one of Philip II of 
Spain, that looks the cruel bigot and bloody monster 
he was; one of an "Old Woman Fallen Asleep while 
Reading," by Nicolaas Maes, that is most real and life- 
like; o^e of the "Reading of the Bible in Times of the 
Inquisition," most solemn and impressive; another of 
the "Last Refuge," or a Protestant saved from the 
Spaniards by nuns in a convent during the sack of 
Antwerp; another of a "Protestant Preaching the 

274 



Reformation in a House at Antwerp," with light from Brussels 
the stake shining through a window. All these are 
good. But it is impossible to particularize where there 
are so many good and so few poor. Altogether there 
are nearly a thousand paintings here, both old and new, 
and I confess I rather liked the modern gallery the 
better. In conception, drawing, color, pose, and ex- 
pression, there are many pictures here hard to beat, 
and I do not see why they do not interpret the thought 
and feeling of the nineteenth century quite as well as 
the old masters do the fifteenth and sixteenth cen- 
turies. 

Here, also, are sculptures and statuary, and some 
ancient and modern bronzes, of men, horses, lions, 
tigers, and bears, that are most interesting and instruct- 
ive; and, best of all, these handsome galleries are free 
to everybody, substantially, and so helpful and inspiring 
to every poor boy and girl. 

We went back another day to take a second look 
at these galleries and their art treasures, and were still 
more impressed by them. Surely Brussels may well take 
pride in them, and no true lover of art and of artistic 
things can afford to pass them by. 

But Brussels has one gallery (Wiertz's) that is 
unique, and not likely to be paralleled soon. The pic- 
tures are all the work of one artist, and the product 
of his lifetime. He would not sell to anybody while 
living, but painted and painted, and gave them all to 
his native city. He was not without genius, but seems 
to have been unhinged, if not insane. His subjects 
are all (or nearly all) of the grotesque, the ghastly, and 
the horrible. One is the great one-eyed "Polyphemus" 

275 



European devouring the companions of Ulysses. He is portrayed 
Days and as a colossal cannibal, literally eating one poor fellow, 
Ways and grabbing with his great claw of a hand for two 
or three others, while Ulysses himself, with hand on 
sword, looks helplessly on. Another is the "Revolt of 
Hell," with Satan as the old serpent, and his horrid 
angels breathing fire and smoke as they assault the 
cross, while a particularly ambitious fiend, with great 
flapping wings, attempts to crush it with a rock. An- 
other is an old witch teaching a young witch how to 
begin — by riding a broomstick. Another is of a hor- 
rified mother, returning from market and finding her 
beautiful child burned to death during her absence. 
Another is of a man buried alive, and afterwards com- 
ing to himself and striving to burst from his coffin. 
Another, entitled "Famine, Madness, and Crime," is 
of a mother who has killed her child and cut off its 
chubby little leg, and is now boiling this in a pot over 
the fire for dinner. Another is of "Napoleon in Hell," 
with amputated arms and legs flying at him, and dis- 
severed heads scowling at him, and widows and 
orphans howling and shrieking at him, brandishing 
their fists and cursing him, while infernal fires are al- 
ready gnawing into his vitals and getting ready to 
consume him. Another is "Visions of a Man Beheaded," 
after his head has been cut off, with his bleeding stump 
lying on one side of the block, and his bloody head with 
staring eyes on the other. 

There are some good things, such as "The Greeks 
Contending over the Body of Patroclus;" a "Chained 
Dog," a fine piece of work; "A Belgian Lady Defend- 
ing Her Honor," by pistoling a French soldier who 

276 



assaults her; "Venus at the Forge of Vulcan;" the Brussels 
"Education of the Virgin;" the "Rosebud," a charm- 
ing young woman, and some others of exquisite draw- 
ing and coloring. But the general effect of the collec- 
tion is of the ghastly and the horrible. This violates 
the first rule of Greek art, which always held that noth- 
ing is worthy of the painter or sculptor that does not tend 
to refine and elevate and uplift the mind and soul of 
the beholder. I am sure neither Phidias nor Praxiteles 
would have ventured upon such subjects; and if they 
had, Athens would have rejected or suppressed them. 

Here in Belgium is the home of the "Belgian block," 
and they put it to good use everywhere; not only for 
paving streets, but also for sidewalks, as in Brussels 
and other places. They cut the blocks uniform, and 
put them down on a good foundation of sand and gravel, 
with the joints well connected, and the whole makes 
a smooth and substantial pavement, hard to beat. Of 
course, it is not so clean and noiseless as asphalt or 
brick; but it is more durable than either, and costs con- 
siderably less. They also pave their main country roads 
with these "Belgian blocks," and have done so for a 
century or two, to a width of eight or ten feet only, 
with a dirt road on either side. The main road through 
the battlefield of Waterloo is so paved, and others that 
we saw, and the old Roman roads could not have been 
much more serviceable. 

Here in Brussels, also, we saw many dogs harnessed 
up with men and women, as in Holland and Germany, 
and "working like dogs." They were mostly under- 
sized, and mongrel curs of all kinds; but they did a 
great deal of hard work, and led one to pity them oft- 

277 



European times. So, too, we saw women engaged in all kinds 
Days and of hard manual labor the same as men, and one day 
Ways at the railroad station at Brussels we saw a woman 
cleaning and blacking a man's shoes. She was a deli- 
cate creature, and he a great hulk of a man, and it 
seemed as if the business should have been reversed. 
I so expressed myself to a Belgian, but he answered: 
"Well, it is better than nothing. She is probably very 
poor. It helps her to make a living. And it is disagree- 
able to starve!" The truth is, that in all those Euro- 
pean countries the rich are very rich, and the poor very 
poor, with no hope of passing from one class to an- 
other; and that is the misery of the whole business. 
A great gulf yawns forever between "the classes" and 
"the masses;" and it must madden men sometimes to 
think that, no matter what they do, they and their chil- 
dren and their children's children must be groundlings 
forever. Hence the Nihilist and the Socialist, who, 
in America at least, really have no raison d'etre, thank 
Heaven ! 

We spent a Sunday in both The Hague and at Brus- 
sels, and went to the English church both times. The 
congregations were fair, but the sermons intolerable. 
They had no pews, only rush or split-bottomed chairs, 
tied together with ropes, and most uncomfortable. At 
Brussels there was a sexton, in a quaint old costume, 
who preceded the rector up the aisle, and the congre- 
gation did not exceed fifty, in a church capable of hold- 
ing four or five hundred. The service was Eow Church. 
The music was fine, but the preaching abominable. 
The minister alternately shrieked and mumbled, and 
mouthed his English so intolerably that it was all Bel- 

278 



gian or Greek to us, and after standing it for an hour Brussels 
or so we departed without edification. There were two 
English young ladies, however, stopping at our pension 
who declared the sermon "beautiful," and it may be 
we were at fault more than the preacher. It is well to 
remember good George Herbert: 

"Judge not the preacher ; for he is thy judge ; 
The worst speak something good ; if all want sense, 
God takes a text, and preacheth Patience." 

England deserves credit for one thing — she plants 
a Protestant Church wherever Englishmen go, and 
maintains it there, whether the natives come in or not. 
Englishmen and Americans at least will worship there, 
and maintain "the faith once delivered to the saints ;" 
and that is great gain. 



279 




Chapter XXIV 

[jF course, being at Brussels, we went out to 
Waterloo. This is only twelve miles to the 
southward, en route to Paris, and well re- 
pays a visit. If "there is n't anything there 
worth seeing," as a person who had been there before 
us said, it is because one has not got the right kind 
of eyes to see. Here Wellington stood against Napo- 
leon, and whipped him, and drove him back into France, 
and out of Europe, and established the power and 
authority of the Anglo-Saxon race over the whole earth 
for a century nearly now. I think that was some- 
thing to do; and you can see it all here at Waterloo, 
if you have only the right kind of eyes to see. 

Waterloo itself is only a little typical Belgian vil- 
lage, of a few hundred inhabitants, strung along the 
Brussels and Charleroi road for a mile or two. It is 
three miles or more from the battlefield, and the great 
battle only happened to be so called, because Welling- 
ton wrote his first dispatch home from there. It took 
him three days to get the news to London; he could 
do it now in three minutes. But it soon set all England 
wild, and Europe as well. The French call it the battle 
of Mont St. Jean, because it really occurred there. But 
it got the name of Waterloo, and, though erroneous, 
will so pass down the centuries. 

280 



To understand Waterloo, one must go back to the Waterloo 
beginning of the campaign; only a few days before, 
really. Napoleon had returned from Elba only three 
months before, and all Europe was up in arms against 
him, nearly a million of soldiers preparing to invade 
France. Quickly he recruited a great army again; but 
where to strike first puzzled him. Finally he decided 
to move on Belgium, where the English and Prussians 
lay, ready to march on Paris, and to separate and whip 
them in detail, if possible, before turning his attention 
elsewhere. To do this, he must needs move quickly 
and secretly, and accordingly he ordered his army to 
assemble at Charleroi, Belgium, on the road to Brus- 
sels — about thirty miles from there — as speedily as pos- 
sible. Here he himself joined, June 15th, while the 
English were assembling at Quatrebras, and the Prus- 
sians at Ligny, twenty-one and twenty-eight miles 
from Brussels respectively, to safe-guard the two main 
roads to Brussels. In round numbers he had one hun- 
dred and twenty-five thousand men, the Prussians one 
hundred and twenty-one thousand, and the English, or 
allies, ninety-four thousand. He ordered Ney to 
Quatrebras, eight or ten miles away, with forty-three 
thousand men, to watch Wellington and stand the Eng- 
lish off, while he himself attacked Blucher and his Prus- 
sians, June 1 6th, at Ligny, also eight or ten miles dis- 
tant, and whipped them well ; but without routing them, 
however. He supposed they were going to fall back 
on Namur and Liege, and possibly to the Rhine (at 
right angles nearly to the Brussels road, and thus sep- 
arating themselves more and more from Wellington), 
and left Grouchy, with thirty-three thousand men, to 

281 



European observe and handle them, while he himself, with the 
Days and rest of his army, joined Ney at Quatrebras, June 17th. 
Ways Ney had been slow in getting there on the 16th, or he 
would have overwhelmed the allies, who were only partly 
concentrated, and Wellington himself only just escaped 
capture after some desperate fighting there. The duke 
now withdrew everything to Waterloo, and decided to 
stand and fight there, if Blucher would re-enforce him 
with "a single army corps." His reply was that he 
would come with his whole army; "upon this under- 
standing, however, that if the French do not attack 
us on the 18th, we shall attack them on the 19th." 
With this understanding, then, Wellington halted at 
Waterloo, and prepared for action. 

In many respects Waterloo is indeed an ideal battle- 
field, and not unlike our own Gettysburg. It is easy 
to see why Wellington won, when one rides over the 
field. I never understood it before going there, and 
let me see if I can now make it plain to others. 

The English had much the advantage of position, 
just as Meade had at Gettysburg. Wellington had 
marked it with his eagle eye and nose, over a year be- 
fore, as a good place to fight, and his engineers had it 
well mapped out and ready for battle before Napoleon 
arrived there. The half-paved highways from Nivelles 
and Genappe, up which the French were advancing, 
unite at the village of Mont St. Jean, a little hill only, 
whence the main road leads to Brussels. The whole 
country there is not a dead level, like so much of Bel- 
gium, but a series of waves and swells, with rocky crests 
and detached hills, especially on Wellington's side, af- 
fording every facility for concealing and protecting 

282 



troops. Here, on the crest or ridge of a long swell, Waterloo 
extending from La Hougomont (Hugo's Mont or 
Hill) on the right to Mont St. Jean on the left, a dis- 
tance of two and a half miles or so, Wellington posted 
the English army. Opposite, a mile or so away, on 
a much lower swell, Napoleon posted the French army. 
This was not unlike Meade and Lee at Gettysburg, on 
Cemetery Ridge and Seminary Ridge, respectively. Be- 
tween was a considerable intervale, and, as Napoleon 
attacked, the French had first to march down and across, 
and then charge up, much as Lee had to do; and Wel- 
lington had only to stand still and hold fast, as Meade 
did, with La Hougomont and Mont St. Jean to help 
him, as Meade had Kulp's Hill and Little Round Top 
to help him. Mont St. Jean did not count for so much 
as Little Round Top, but La Hougomont proved an- 
other Kulp's Hill, and more, and one could well under- 
stand this when he saw what it was and is. 

La Hougomont is a solid and massive old chateau 
of brick and stone, built in the sixteenth or seventeenth 
century for defense, with numerous outbuildings, and a 
large yard and extensive garden, all inclosed by a high 
and substantial brick wall. There were more buildings 
there then than now, and more places for shelter and de- 
fense. There is a high hedgerow before it now; but 
then there was also a considerable grove, since cut 
down. It has heavy wooden gates, secured by strong 
iron bars, that show marks of age and battle, but look 
good for another century or two. Inside is a great 
Belgian barn, of stone and brick, that is a real fortress 
of itself on a moderate scale. This was filled with sleek- 
looking horses and cows the day we were there, while 

283 



European outside were antique plows, harrows, carts, farm-wagons, 
Days and etc. Also inside, just beyond the main entrance, is a 
Ways little brick chapel, with a rude altar at the farther end, 
surmounted by a carved wooden statue of St. Anne, with 
the child Christ in her arms. A ball knocked off his 
head during the battle, and his feet were charred by fire, 
but here the flames stopped. "A miracle," the Belgian 
peasants say; but no mass has been said there since, 
several soldiers having been killed in the chapel. 

Here Wellington rested his right wing, as well he 
might — it was a miniature fort — after carefully loop- 
holing all its walls, and scaffolding them, so as to fire 
from the top as well as underneath — a double line of 
fire — and barricading every door and gate with wagons 
and carts. He posted four companies of his English 
Guards here, the best troops he had, under splendid 
officers, re-enforcing them from time to time as needed, 
and planted artillery to command all the approaches and 
also to command the place itself if surrounded by the 
enemy. It seems incredible, but this little English gar- 
rison — never over a thousand strong, if so many — here 
resisted the whole of Reille's corps, some twelve thou- 
sand strong, beating it back again and again, and hold- 
ing La Hougomont to the last. The French did not 
know what it was. They thought it only a piece of 
woods, with a house or so in it, and butted their brains 
out against its massive brick and stone walls in vain. 
They attacked it furiously, brigade after brigade, but 
did it by piecemeal, and gained nothing. Prodigies of 
valor were performed here on both sides; the French 
climbing over the walls, only to be shot or bayoneted 
as they leaped down on the inside, and the English fight- 

284 



ing like bulldogs amidst fire and smoke, against over- Waterloo 
whelming odds. The French early set fire to it; but 
the English fought the flames and the French both. 
When the French swarmed around it too much, the 
English howitzers on the ridge above shelled and scat- 
tered them like chaff, and all day long the English never 
let go their bulldog grip here. Why the French did not 
bring up some of their splendid batteries and knock it 
to pieces, or make powder-bags and blow down its walls, 
is very surprising. But here was a fatality that, of itself, 
cost Napoleon the field; and there were others. 

Farther down the English line, near the center of it, 
but somewhat to the front, is La Haye Sainte, a brick 
and stone farmhouse, with barns and outbuildings also, 
but with nothing like the strength of La Hougomont. 
Here Wellington also posted some good troops (King's 
German Legion), but the place was too far front for 
re-enforcing or supplying with ammunition, and, though 
gallantly defended, the French finally took and held it. 
Why they did not then bring up their artillery here and 
enfilade the British lines, raking them east and west to 
St. Jean and Hougomont, is another mystery, and must 
be counted as another fatality. One would suppose it 
would have been the first thing Napoleon would have 
thought of; but his mind may have been too much en- 
grossed just then with the approach of Blucher, and 
Ney overlooked or neglected it, as he did other things 
in that campaign. 

The two armies were pretty well matched as to num- 
bers actually present on the field — Wellington 67,661 
men, Napoleon 71,947. But Napoleon had two hundred 
and forty-six guns to Wellington's only one hundred 

285 



European and fifty-six, and his cavalry was also superior. But, 
Days and worst of all, Wellington had a heterogeneous army of 
Ways English, Belgians, Hanoverians, Brunswickers, Ger- 
mans, Nassauers, and Dutch, part of whom were dis- 
affected, because formerly under Napoleon, and part pol- 
troons. Of course his English troops were good, though 
in part raw recruits, his veterans of the Peninsula being 
absent in America, paying their respects to Andrew 
Jackson at New Orleans. But of his army as a whole, 
Wellington afterwards said, "It was the worst I ever 
commanded." No reliance could be placed on his Neth- 
erlanders, especially the Belgians. Early in the battle 
they broke and fled from the field, amidst the jeers and 
execrations of their English allies, and never returned, 
reporting at Brussels that the day was lost. Practically, 
therefore, Wellington was reduced to fifty thousand men, 
composed of four or five different nationalities, of whom 
only about thirty thousand were really British. His gen- 
erals, however, were good officers, many of them trained 
under his own eye, veterans of the Peninsula and India; 
and he himself was in his military prime (forty-six years), 
confident of himself and eager to fight Napoleon. Pie 
had fought his best marshals in Spain and Portugal, and 
whipped them, and now was ready to tackle their chief 
also. On June 15th he had been at the famous ball of 
the Duchess of Richmond at Brussels, and there re- 
ceived his first news of Napoleon's advance on Belgium. 
"Bony has humbugged me and gained twenty-four 
hours march on me !" he said to the Duke of Rich- 
mond. But he immediately went to bed and slept six 
hours, and then mounted his horse and rode at speed 
to Quatrebras (twenty miles), where he arrived at 3 

286 



A. M., June 16th, and at daylight was at Blucher' s head- Waterloo 
quarters several more miles away, where he advised old 
"Marshal Forwarts" (he was seventy-two, and had been 
fifty years a soldier) to make some changes in his dis- 
positions; but he would not, and got well drubbed by 
Napoleon that day at Ligny accordingly. Wellington 
intended to concentrate at Quatrebras, but found it too 
late, and so ordered everything back to Waterloo, or 
Mont St. Jean; and here now he stood ready to receive 
battle, and to fight as man never fought before for "God 
and native land." Of course, he expected Blucher to 
re-enforce him; but until Blucher came, or whether 
Blucher came or not, he resolved to stand and fight it 
out, like the intrepid Englishman and heroic soul he was. 
On the other hand, the French army was homo- 
geneous, all Frenchmen, and composed mainly of old 
and well-disciplined soldiers, accustomed to act together 
and habituated to victory. They were Napoleon's vet- 
erans, the victors on a hundred battlefields. Over two 
hundred thousand French soldiers had got home from 
foreign prisons not long before, and here were Napo- 
leon's pick of them, thirsting for revenge and glory again. 
His officers, also, were good, though his old marshals 
were mainly absent, only Soult and Ney present; Soult 
as chief of staff, and Ney second in command. Grouchy 
was also along, but detached to watch the Prussians, 
with thirty-three thousand men, not included above, and 
never reached Waterloo. But Napoleon depended upon 
him, and had he divined Grouchy would never reach the 
field, evidently he would have fought the battle very 
differently, or not fought it at all. His old marshals had 
tired of fighting, and either remained at home or had 

287 



European taken "French leave," and gone abroad. Napoleon him- 
DflyS and self was then forty-five, and though claimed not to be 
Ways himself as formerly, neither physically nor mentally, yet 
clearly he showed no evidence of this in the pending- 
campaign and battle. Both were admirably planned, and 
they worked out like clock-work up to certain points, 
and then went absolutely to pieces, as if struck by des- 
tiny. He left Paris June 12th, at 3.30 A. M., and rode 
day and night in his military carriage, until the evening 
of the 14th, when he neared Charleroi. On the 15th he 
mounted his horse, and rode from 3 A. M. to 9 P. M., 
and then ate and slept until midnight, when he mounted 
again and rode along his lines, closely inspecting the 
enemy both on horseback and afoot without his staff (as 
was his custom, declining to endanger his staff officers 
unnecessarily), and that day fought the Prussians at 
Ligny, winning a real victory, and effectually separating 
them from Wellington, as he supposed. He was in the 
saddle again all that day (16th), and that night slept hard 
and late. On the 17th, it rained hard; but he duly 
mounted and rode eight or ten miles to La Belle Alli- 
ance, a little country tavern only, and here he estab- 
lished his headquarters, ready for battle next day at 
Waterloo. It rained hard all that afternoon and night, 
with much thunder and lightning, but at 1 A. M. 
(18th) he mounted and rode to the front, and rode and 
walked all along his picket-lines, as was his custom be- 
fore battle, to assure himself that everything was in order 
and the enemy still there. At 2.30 A. M. he was near 
the wood of Hougomont, and then returned to La Belle 
Alliance. Soon afterwards a report reached him that 
the English were retiring, and he again mounted and 

288 



rode two miles and a half through the rain and mud Waterloo 
with one of his corps commanders (d'Erlon), intending 
to order instant pursuit if the report proved true, but a 
close inspection on foot showed they were still there, 
grouped about their camp-fires. At 8 A. M. he mounted 
again and rode along his lines, and issued orders for his 
army to draw up in three lines ready for battle, but it 
did not cease raining until 9 A. M. It was 10.30 A. M. 
before his formation was completed, with bands playing, 
colors flying, and shouts of "Vive TEnipereur" from all 
parts of the field, in plain view of the English from their 
higher ground, and then (fatally) he still delayed his 
attack until 1 P. M., because of the softness of the 
ground. Above all else he was an artillery officer. He 
believed in cannon. He had won Austerlitz, Jena, Ma- 
rengo, and his great victories elsewhere, chiefly by can- 
non, and he did not want to go into action until he was 
sure of his guns. All this goes to prove that Napoleon 
was really himself at Waterloo, alert and vigorous as 
usual, though older and fatter, and suffering at times 
from some bladder trouble. He believed his army su- 
perior to the English in both numbers and fighting 
capacity, and was confident of beating them, as he had 
beaten the Prussians at Eigny. He thought Grouchy 
would head off or stand off the Prussians, as Ney had 
stood off the English at Quatrebras June 16th, and he 
meant to make quick work of Wellington, now that he 
had him at bay. He told Soult on the morning of the 
battle, that his chances were at least ninety out of one 
hundred; that the duke was only "a Sepoy general," 
after all — referring to his campaigns in India — and that 
"this English general would have to have his lesson, 
19 289 



European as others had done, and he would give it to him before 

Days and the day was over !" And so he boasted, French-Corsi- 

WayS can-like, while Wellington grimly sat still and bided his 

time; his men well under cover, while the French were 

in plain view. 

The field has been described pretty well already, but 
it may help to a clearer understanding of it if I say that 
it is well represented by the letter V, or better by an in- 
verted letter A, thus u y." The right-hand stroke is the 
Nivelles road; the left the Genappe road. At the in- 
verted apex is Mont St. Jean; Wellington is there. At 
the right foot is La Hougomont; Reille's corps is there, 
with Jerome Bonaparte commanding one of his di- 
visions. At the left is La Belle Alliance; Napoleon is 
there. The cross-bar would be Wellington's line of bat- 
tle substantially, with La Haye Sainte near the center, 
but somewhat in front. The triangle below the cross- 
bar would be the plateau of Mont St. Jean, commanding 
the road to Brussels, for which was the whole struggle. 
Whoever occupied and held that was sure to have Brus- 
sels, and so Belgium, and so perhaps Europe; and hence 
the great combat. 

It was Sunday, and all the instincts of Wellington 
were against fighting on that day; but there was no help 
for him. It was now well on towards noon, if not after 
(accounts differ as to the exact time, though the attack 
was ordered for i P. M.), when the battle opened by the 
advance of a part of Reille's corps (French left wing) 
under Jerome Bonaparte, a brother of Napoleon. Its 
skirmishers advanced rapidly and attacked furiously, ex- 
pecting to take La Hougomont by storm, but were 
bloodily repulsed. They soon returned to the assault 

290 



with redoubled fury, and speedily forced their way up Waterloo 
to and over the old brick walls in some instances; but 
the British infantry and howitzers soon drove them out, 
or bayoneted them, and again they were compelled to re- 
treat. This was only the beginning of reiterated assaults 
lasting all the afternoon, in which the French infantry 
literally swarmed about and over and through La Hou- 
gomont, but they could never take and permanently hold 
it. They battered down its gates and doors. They set 
fire to it. They drove its defenders from wall to wall, 
and room to room. They bespattered it with blood, 
and filled it with the dead and dying. But somehow 
Wellington always re-enforced it at the right moment, 
and his men held on with a dogged pluck and resolution 
characteristic of the race. Had the French once gained 
it, they would likely have gained the day also. But 
destiny or Providence ordered otherwise. It was not 
unlike our first day at Gettysburg indeed. 

But this attack on La Hougomont was only meant 
as a feint. Napoleon never supposed it would take more 
than an hour or so, and would draw Wellington's atten- 
tion away from his main attack. This was to be against 
the British left and center, at Mont St. Jean and La Haye 
Sainte, and was meant to carry the plateau and seize 
the main road to Brussels there. It was well planned, 
but indifferently executed, and only partially successful; 
not unlike our second day at Gettysburg. It was or- 
dered for i P. M., but did not begin until about 2 P. M. 
It was placed in charge of d'Erlon, his best corps com- 
mander, and aimed straight at the key of the English 
position there. • He moved out with upwards of twenty 
thousand men, including cavalry, supported by seventy- 

291 



European eight guns, many of them twelve-pounders; and it must 
Days and have been a "braw" sight and a "bonnie" spectacle, as 
ways the Scotch say. It was only six hundred yards or so to 
the English lines. The French artillery fired over their 
heads, as they crossed the intervale and began the ascent, 
and then ceased for fear of hitting their own men. The 
four divisions moved in four columns en echelon, with 
a front of about two hundred men each in forty ranks, 
five paces apart (practically a solid column), and prom- 
ised great things, but proved unwieldy and lacked mo- 
bility. When they got to the crest of the ridge the 
British, or allies, rose suddenly and attacked furiously 
at short range, with both infantry and artillery, as well 
as cavalry, and though a part of their line gave way 
(Netherlanders), yet the rest fought with great gallantry 
and intense fierceness. The charge of the British was 
irresistible, and soon the French were driven hotly back, 
with the loss of two eagles, fifteen guns, and thousands 
of prisoners, besides the killed and wounded. The three 
left columns, indeed, were forced back in great disorder, 
and the whole attack failed, though at one time it prom- 
ised success. It broke the Dutch-Belgians, and indeed 
looked so promising for awhile that Napoleon, watching 
it through his glass from La Belle Alliance, concluded 
it had succeeded, and at once dispatched a courier to 
Paris to announce his victory. But he did not know 
Wellington; and Bliicher also was to be reckoned with. 
Shortly after d'Erlon moved out to his grand attack, 
a column of troops appeared on the heights of St. Lam- 
bert, far off on the French right. Soult thought them 
only a cloud at first. Napoleon took them for Grouchy, 
hastening to his assistance, after fending off Bliicher, 

292 



but soon discovered they were Prussians instead. They Waterloo 
had to be looked to, as they menaced his right and rear, 
and so his communications, and he ordered the Sixteenth 
Corps to attend to them — about ten thousand men — 
and re-enforced them with six thousand more after- 
wards. He gave his own attention to this, as the most 
important item pending, and turned the battle in front 
over to Ney, as second in command. This was between 
3 and 4 P. M. Here was another fatality; for though 
Ney was called ''the bravest of the brave" — -had four 
horses shot under him at Waterloo — yet he seemed dis- 
affected or disobedient at Ouatrebras, or incompetent, 
was too slow in getting up, and was never, indeed, ac- 
counted a great general; lacked coolness and judgment. 
He was a cavalry officer per se, — brave but reckless, as 
Napoleon was an artillery officer; and he decided now to 
put in his cavalry and show the infantry how to do it. 
He did not order all in, but one division he meant to 
hold (Guyot's) went in with the rest, without orders, 
leaving him no reserves, and here was another fa- 
tality. 

He formed his four divisions — about four thousand 
men — into twenty-six squadrons, over half a mile long, 
and launched them as a solid column again against the 
English center and left, hoping to crush Wellington with 
the mere weight of his attack. It promised well. His 
artillery again opened fire over the heads of his advanc- 
ing cavalry, and pounded the English lines savagely; 
but they had to cease firing as his cavalry ascended the 
slope, and here Wellington formed his infantry into 
squares, three lines deep; front line kneeling with fixed 
bayonets, and the other two firing over their heads, with 

293 



European his artillery in the center, firing from time to time, as 
Days and the infantry opened ranks or lay down.* His artillery 
Ways tore great gaps through the French cavalry; but still 
they advanced, and galloped round and round these 
British squares, hacking at the men with their sabers, 
and firing off their pistols and hurling them in their 
faces. But they did not break a single square; and 
presently Wellington's cavalry, or what was left of it, 
charged them fiercely, and again the French were driven 
down the slope, and retired to their own side of the val- 
ley. Presently they tried it again with reiterated assaults 
and increased fury, and it seemed as if those English 
squares must break and crumble to pieces. But they did 
not. They took La Haye Sainte, indeed (the English 
never recovered it), when its ammunition was exhausted 
and defenders all slain, fighting with clubbed muskets 
and bayonets to the last. But the Iron Duke still held 
fast. What was Ney to do now? His infantry and cav- 
alry were both used up, had been recklessly wasted 
against Wellington's invulnerable lines, and he had no 
reserves left to fall back upon. At one time he had 
gained nearly half a mile of the English line, west of the 
Brussels pike; but Wellington had promptly brought up 
fresh troops, and restored it again. All day long the 
duke seemed gifted with ubiquity. He always appeared 
on the field at the right moment, wherever he was most 
needed, and his presence — cool, confident, determined — 
always turned the tide of battle. He never lost his head, 



*Some of his artillery, indeed, remained outside his squares, and 
pounded the French as they advanced or retired, the gunners taking- refuge 
within the squares, as necessary. But why the French did not spike or 
otherwise disable these outside guns, I do n't know. 

294 



and appeared everywhere as the incarnation of English Waterloo 
common sense and English bulldog courage — game all 
through. 

It was now well on to 7 P. M. Napoleon thought 
the Prussians' advance substantially checked, and turned 
his attention to Wellington again. The battle mean- 
while had lulled since the repulse of the cavalry. He 
soon discovered Ney's plight, with his cavalry used up 
and gone by being launched obstinately and blindly 
against the British squares, and decided that the only 
thing left to do was to put in his Imperial Guard. Had 
he not had the Prussians to look after, he would have 
had sixteen thousand fresh troops to attack the British 
left, and Wellington would have been hard pressed in- 
deed, if not beaten. As it was, he was pretty well used 
up, too; but he had some fresh troops left, both cavalry 
and artillery, and above all was himself still plucky and 
resolute. Of course, he was eager for Blucher to get 
up. But he meant to fight it out, whether Blucher got 
up or not. The old story of his exclaiming, "Blucher or 
night," is likely apocryphal, as he was too good a soldier 
to allow such words to escape him on the battlefield. 
More likely he said, "Well, Bony, we '11 see which can 
pound the longest!" 

So Napoleon now ordered his Imperial Guard for- 
ward, as a dernier ressort, as Lee launched Pickett's Di- 
vision the last day at Gettysburg. He had kept most of 
it in reserve all day, back of Ea Belle Alliance, out of 
fire; Ney not being allowed to use it. But he now or- 
dered the whole of it forward, and as it passed his head- 
quarters with shouts of "Vive l'Empereur !" bands play- 
ing and colors flying, he placed himself at its head, and 

295 



European led it down to where Ney was — just in front and south 
Days and of La Haye Sainte — and after addressing it briefly 
Ways turned it over to him. It consisted of infantry and ar- 
tillery, about five thousand men, and was indeed the very 
flower of the French army, picked men, veterans of many 
a battlefield. In order to encourage them, he also or- 
dered a report to be spread that Grouchy had arrived 
over on the right. Ney at once assumed command, and, 
placing himself at its head, marched straight for the 
British right center, between La Haye Sainte and La 
Hougomont. He had tried the left twice and the right 
repeatedly, and now essayed the right center, hoping for 
better fortune, not knowing Wellington had his reserves 
there. The column moved en echelon again, with a two 
company front, with ranks five paces apart, as before, 
with two batteries of horse-artillery covering its left 
flank, while d'Erlon's corps, or what was left of it, cov- 
ered its right flank. It moved diagonally across the 
field, at the pas de charge, bands playing and colors fly- 
ing, with their huge bearskin caps, arms a-port, and 
officers in front waving their swords, while the French 
cannon again fired over their heads and pounded the 
English lines. The English artillery replied, plowing 
great lanes through the French ranks as they got nearer; 
but still the column advanced. Soon Ney's horse was 
shot under him, and he was given another, and that also 
was shot, and then he advanced on foot, encouraging his 
men at every step; and, notwithstanding death and de- 
struction all about them, the Guards actually gained the 
slope and advanced to the last ridge where the English 
lay concealed by growing wheat. The whole battlefield, 
indeed, was covered with wheat, rye, barley, and oats. 

296 



Here Wellington commanded in person, and when the Waterloo 
head of the column was within fifty or sixty paces he 
suddenly opened on them with grape and cannister, 
while his whole line rose and poured their musketry fire 
into their very faces. The Guards halted instinctively, 
it was all so sudden, and the head of the column wavered 
and staggered, as if struck by a great flail. Then the 
rear ranks attempted to deploy into line, seeing the folly 
of their attack in column when every bullet killed half 
a dozen men and every cannon ball half a hundred, but 
only confusion resulted, of course. Then some unknown 
British officer, rising to the occasion, shouted out: 
"Now 's the time, boys, charge !" and the whole British 
line swept forward, pouring it into them both front and 
flank, and in spite of all Ney and his gallant officers could 
do, soon the Guards, outnumbered and dazed, recoiled, 
and then sullenly retreated, and presently crumbled to 
pieces — half panic-stricken or worse — leaving the 
ground heaped with their dead and dying. In trying 
to deploy, the French masked their own batteries — they 
could n't fire without hitting their own men — and so 
their protecting cannon were of no use to them. Ney 
tried to rally his men, as they drifted back, but failed; 
and then, hatless, with waving sword, covered with mud 
and sweat and blood, he shouted out to d'Erlon, as he 
passed by: "Where are you going? Come and see how 
a marshal of France dies on the field of battle !" But he 
did not die there. His men pushed him into a square, to 
escape the British cavalry now in hot pursuit, and so he 
was swept off the battlefield, to be shot afterwards by 
the Bourbons, more shame to them. This was about 
8 P. M.; and now the whole of the allied line rose up 

297 



European by Wellington's orders, "Up, Guards, and advance!" 
Days and and, with himself among the foremost, charged down 
Ways the heights, and across the intervale, and up the French 
slope, even to La Belle Alliance, sweeping all before 
them — as Meade should have done the last day at Gettys- 
burg. It must have been a magnificent sight. But O, 
how tragic and pitiful ! 

Meanwhile the Prussians, instead of being checked 
as Napoleon supposed, massed more and more on the 
French right, and about 7.30 P. M. (they had been slow 
in getting up), turned it, and began to open on their 
rear with forty-eight guns, the balls of which soon 
reached the Genappe road, Napoleon's main line of com- 
munications, spreading terror and confusion there. A 
few of the Prussians, indeed, made the English left, and 
re-enforced it, where they were badly needed. Though 
stoutly resisted by the French, the Prussians neverthe- 
less continued to advance, and when Napoleon saw the 
Imperial Guards repulsed and wrecked, he quickly com- 
prehended all was over with him. His final order was, 
"Tout est perdu! Sauve qui pent!" — "All is lost! Save 
himself who can !" — and, placing himself in a passing 
square, he also was borne from the battlefield. The pur- 
suit continued for five or six miles — the retreat degen- 
erating into a rout — the French losing all semblance of 
an army even, and rushing pellmell back on Genappe, 
where the road crossed the river Dyle by a single bridge. 
This soon became choked with wagons and artillery, 
and here alone a hundred pieces of cannon were aban- 
doned, together with Napoleon's military carriage, con- 
taining his maps, order-books, and correspondence. 
The next day Napoleon secured a horse, and with this 

298 



rode on to Paris, whither the debris of his Grand Army Waterloo 
presently followed him. The British were so exhausted 
they could not press the pursuit; but the Prussians were 
comparatively fresh, and Blucher now took pleasure in 
getting even with Napoleon for worsting him at Ligny. 
Napoleon, in his Official Report, claimed that he "had 
gained the battle;" that Wellington, of course, did not 
know when he was whipped; that "we occupied all the 
positions which the enemy occupied at the outset of the 
battle;" that "the army saw with joy the battle gained 
and the field of battle in our power;" and that after- 
wards, without due cause, "a complete panic at once 
spread itself throughout the whole field of battle," and 
hence the unfortunate "issue of the battle of Mont St. 
Jean, glorious for the French armies, and yet so fatal." 
Of course, he knew better, but instinctively fibbed, after 
the Bonaparte nature. 

Now came "the Butcher's bill," and of course it was 
enormous — over fifty thousand men hors de combat. The 
total French loss was probably thirty thousand, besides 
two hundred and twenty-seven guns; the English and 
Prussians twenty-three thousand one hundred and 
eighty-five. At Gettysburg Lee lost twenty-seven thou- 
sand five hundred and twenty-five, and Meade twenty- 
three thousand and three. Their armies were about the 
same as Napoleon's and Wellington's respectively; so 
that the two battles were not unlike generally, and 
they were both soldiers' battles more than generals' 
battles. 

Afterwards Wellington and Blucher marched on to 
Paris at their leisure, and when they got there Blucher 
wanted to hang or shoot Napoleon as an outlaw and 

299 



European monster. But Wellington said, No; they were con- 
DayS and querors, not executioners; and it would not sound well 
Ways in history to dispose of him in that way, after triumphing 
at Waterloo. So Napoleon was sent to St. Helena in- 
stead, and he was left to fret his heart out in that island 
prison, the Nineteenth Century not knowing what bet- 
ter to do with the greatest prodigy our race has pro- 
duced, after Alexander and Caesar. Unquestionably he 
had more genius than Wellington; but Wellington ex- 
celled him in common sense and "clear grit," and so 
conquered at Waterloo. 

Napoleon himself was guilty of grave errors in the 
conduct of the battle, and, besides, seems to have been 
dogged by ill-luck or fatalities. The heavy rain that 
morning, and the night and day before, was against him; 
he could not move his artillery. He went into action too 
late; he should have attacked at 9 A. M. instead of 
1 P. M.; and then Bliicher would not have got up in 
time to trouble him. He trusted too much to Ney, and 
allowed him to waste both infantry and cavalry in reck- 
less charges. He did not take sufficiently into account 
the steadiness and pluck of English soldiers. And then 
there was Hougomont besides. And he ought to have 
been himself at La Haye Sainte. Certainly he was rashly 
overconfident; and Grouchy failed him miserably. Had 
Grouchy done his duty, all might have resulted differ- 
ently. His orders after Ligny were to follow up and 
watch the Prussians, Napoleon judging they would fall 
back on Namur and Liege, away from Waterloo; but 
when he found they were marching on Brussels, aiming 
to reach Waterloo, he should at once have "cut across 
lots," and got there first. Instead, he continued "to 

300 



follow" them, and fought a useless rear action at Wavre, Waterloo 
when he should have marched to the sound of Napo- 
leon's cannon. His second in command, Gerard, urged 
this upon him at 12.30 P. M., soon after Waterloo 
opened; but, with blind obedience to his orders, he kept 
hammering away at the Prussian rear. At 1 P. M. Soult 
wrote him : "You will maneuver in our direction. . . . 
Be at hand to fall upon and destroy any enemy that may 
attempt to attack our right. . . . Maneuver to join our 
right, without loss of time." Precisely what he ought 
to have done without orders; but he did not get Soult' s 
order until 7 P. M., and it was then too late. Waterloo 
was practically over, and Grouchy, with thirty-three 
thousand men, twelve or fifteen miles away. Unques- 
tionably he was either indifferent or incompetent; per- 
haps both. If it be said Napoleon erred in not giving 
him more precise orders, and that he should have kept 
him better informed as to what was happening at Water- 
loo, the answer is, he trusted to his good sense and sound 
military judgment, as he had a right to do, if fit for such 
a weighty command. 

Wellington was at fault in not concentrating at Qua- 
trebras in time; he was caught napping, and barely es- 
caped ruin there. But this was his last mistake. His 
dispositions and conduct at Waterloo were faultless. If 
it be said that he erred in losing La Haye Sainte, the 
answer is, he could not hold it; and also, that he ought 
to have retaken it, the like answer is, he was not able 
to do so. He had a "big job of work" on hand as it was, 
and it taxed him to the utmost. He was wary and cool 
from the outset, and, of course, he knew every hour's 
delay by Napoleon was in his favor, as it increased the 

301 



European chances of the Prussians getting up. They were cer- 
Days and tainly dilatory; but they felt a little cross at Wellington 
Ways for not coming to their help at Ligny, not knowing he 
could not, the French having intervened; and, besides, 
the roads were so soft and miry it was almost impossible 
to march at all. The soldiers were continually wanting 
to halt. But Bliicher's constant order was : "Forward I 
I have given my word to Wellington, and you must help 
me keep it !" It was 4.30 P. M. when the first Prussian 
battery opened its fire. By 6 P. M. they had forty-eight 
guns in action. By 7 P. M. they were heavily engaged, 
and undoubtedly did much to save the day. In his offi- 
cial report, Wellington says he "attributed the success- 
ful issue of the battle to the cordial and timely assistance 
of the Prussians," so that they are entitled to their fair 
share of credit. But unquestionably it was the English 
(and their allies) who did the heavy righting, and I am 
inclined to think that Wellington would have whipped, 
anyhow, without the Prussians. He had eighteen thou- 
sand good soldiers back at Hal and Tubize — not far from 
Waterloo, some nine or ten miles — whom he never 
brought up, holding them in reserve in case Napoleon 
took La Hougomont and turned his right, and this does 
not look as if he needed Blucher at all. Of course, it 
was very nice to have Blucher handy; but it looks as if 
Wellington went in to win, with or without the Prus- 
sians. There is a story, told with great circumstantiality 
of Wellington's riding secretly over to Wavre, with a 
single orderly, the night before the battle, to see Blucher 
again, and make sure of his co-operation; but the duke 
always laughingly denied it. 

There does not seem to be much in Victor Hugo's 
302 



elaborate account in "Les Miserables" of a sunken road Waterloo 
near the English line, concealed from the French cav- 
alry, and into which they rode helter-skelter, like West- 
ern buffaloes, one rank riding over another, until it was 
filled up with the dead and dying. Certainly there is no 
such road there now that amounts to much, and it does 
not seem as if there ever was. It is pure imagination 
of the great French poet and novelist mainly. 

But Hugo is right when he says that Waterloo turned 
largely upon accidents and fatalities; that they were all 
against Napoleon; that he had "vexed God," and his 
time had come. "Waterloo," he says, "is not a battle; 
it is the change of front of the universe." The nine- 
teenth century was above the horizon, and its whole 
stream and tendency were against the Idee Napoleon. "It 
was not Wellington who won at Waterloo," he says, 
"but England and English soldiers." 

Unlike Gettysburg, however, Waterloo has no Na- 
tional Cemetery or monuments worthy of the place. It 
has a great clumsy mound of earth (because the Greeks 
had a mound at Marathon, I suppose), five acres in area 
and two hundred feet high in the center, but that is 
about all. This is surmounted by a colossal Belgic lion, 
facing southward defiantly towards France, cast from 
captured French cannon, the whole erected by the allies, 
and maintained by Belgium. The French in 1832, on 
their march to Antwerp, hacked off a part of the tail, 
but the rest was too big and bulky for such vandalism. 
Holland and Hanover have also each erected a grave- 
yard obelisk or pillar, unworthy of them and their sol- 
diers. In a little church at Waterloo is a bust of Wel- 
lington, and some memorial tablets to English and 

303 



European Dutch officers. In a garden a few yards from the church 
Days and is a monument to the leg of Lord Uxbridge (afterwards 
Ways Marquis of Anglesea), who commanded the English cav- 
alry, and had a leg shattered in the battle and amputated 
on the field ! This monument bears a fitting epitaph, 
and is shaded by a weeping willow! At Hougomont 
there are a few tablets and gravestones to officers who 
fell there, and at La Haye Sainte, and also back at Brus- 
sels, to those who died in the hospital; but there are no 
such magnificent and multiplied monuments, and no 
such great National Cemeteries, as we have at Gettys- 
burg, Arlington, Chickamauga, and Chattanooga, and 
scant respect has been shown to the memory of the thou- 
sands of private soldiers who fell here. Of course, the 
French were buried indiscriminately where they fell, and 
no record kept of their names and graves, and the rank 
and file of the allies do not seem to have fared much 
better. Our guide said that three hundred English sol- 
diers were disposed of by casting them into an old well 
at La Hougomont, as a handy grave ready-made, and 
he showed us the well — disused since then — and added, 
"Some were not dead when cast in, but their sighs and 
groans were heard for hours afterwards." But we re- 
fused to credit this gruesome story. 

But certainly these European monarchies have cared 
little for their rank and file, while they have glorified and 
enriched their commanding officers. Belgium alone 
gave Wellington three thousand acres of valuable land 
not far from Waterloo, and made him the largest land- 
holder in Belgium, while England heaped honors and 
riches upon him untold. Only a Republic knows how 
to treat men as men, whether alive or dead, and we 

304 



should be infinitely glad we are Americans. As Burns Waterloo 
well said : 

"The rank is but the guinea stamp — 
The man 's the gowd for a' that." 

All this we saw at Waterloo, and more; and you may 
see the same, if you care to see, and have eyes to see 
with. 



20 3O5 




Chapter XXV 

E were at Brussels just a week, and left there 
August 28th, about 1 P. M., and arrived in 
Paris about 6 P. M. the same day. In our 
ride through Belgium again we could not 
help being struck with her industry, her energy, and her 
prosperity, — fine farms everywhere, excellently well- 
tilled; swarming villages, with substantial cottages; and 
large towns and cities, with multitudinous founderies, 
factories, and smokestacks. Belgium has both coal and 
iron; but, above all, the Belgians know how to utilize 
her natural resources, and so out of their little kingdom 
have already made a great State. One of these days she 
will be a republic, and worthy of the name. We met 
Belgians who were already talking on this wise, and to 
whom the very name of America was dear and reverend. 
At Feignies we passed the frontier (and the custom 
officers), and entered France. Soon we noticed we had 
struck another country and a different people. The 
houses were smaller and ruder — usually only one story, 
with red-tiled roofs; the farms were poorer, and not so 
well tilled; the towns and villages were fewer and more 
antiquated; no new houses or factories, no smokestacks, 
as a rule; and a general air of neglect, not to say deca- 
dence. And when we struck the Seine — a little river 
not half so large as the Delaware apparently — instead of 

306 



swarming with trade and travel, like the Rhine, we found Paris 
only a few canal-boats and barges crawling along. If 
Belgium owned it, she would deepen and widen it to the 
sea, and soon make Paris practically a first-class seaport, 
as Manchester has done, thus doubling her business and 
commerce. This is what Napoleon recommended a cen- 
tury ago, and France has been talking about it ever 
since, and one of these days she will do it, when she gets 
over the nonsense of "militarism," with its barbarism 
and waste, and turns her attention to higher and better 
things — if she ever does. 

And so at last we were in Paris — an old, old city, 
too — old in the days of Julius Caesar, though then sur- 
rounded by forests and marshes. It was then called 
Lutetia Parisiorum, the Parisii being a Gallic tribe occu- 
pying both banks of the Sequana or Seine. But about 
the year 360 its name was changed to Paris, and political 
franchises conferred upon it. It is now a city well on to 
three million inhabitants, and growing steadily, but not 
rapidly. We found good quarters on the Rue St. 
Honore, at the Hotel De Lille et d'Albion, near the 
heart of the city, and settled down to see and enjoy La 
Belle Paris. It was in the midst of the Dreyfus trial at 
Rennes, when all Europe, and indeed the whole world, 
was bubbling over with excitement, and many tourists 
avoided Paris. But we "took heart of grace," and ven- 
tured there, and came away safe and sound. 

Of course, there are many things we did not see. 
But we saw enough to know that Paris is a great city; 
great in population and business; great in art, and sci- 
ence, and literature; great in architecture; great in her 
avenues and streets; great in her galleries and churches; 

307 



European and abounding in great men still, notwithstanding the 
Days and Dreyfus case, which was a reproach to all France. 

Ways Of course, I can not tell the tithe of what we saw, 

and can not hope to particularize much. But let me 
speak generally, and say how things impressed us as a 
whole. We went first to the Louvre, and went back 
again and again, as we had leisure. When we had an 
hour or two to spare, and nothing else to see, we put it 
in at the Louvre, as the best thing we could do. For- 
merly an old hunting-chateau, in the midst of a forest 
infested by wolves, and hence called the Lupara or 
Louverie, it is now the most important building in Paris, 
both architecturally and artistically; indeed, a vast palace 
of art and antiquities, extending from the Rue de Rivoli 
to the Seine. The original chateau long since disap- 
peared, and the present palace was erected by Francis I, 
about 1 541, and afterwards extended and beautified by 
Henry II, Louis XIV, the two Napoleons, and other 
splendor-loving monarchs. With the ruins of the Tuil- 
eries ("tile kilns" originally) it now covers an area of 
about fifty acres, and impresses you as one of the most 
magnificent palaces in the world, notwithstanding all 
we had seen in Italy and elsewhere. As we entered its 
vast corridors and gazed about us, we were simply dazed, 
and much we had seen elsewhere seemed to dwindle into 
insignificance. 

This was especially so as we walked down the first 
corridor and ascended to the landing where stands the 
Nike of Samothrace or the colossal winged statue of 
Victory found there in 1863. It is believed to have been 
executed to commemorate a great naval victory off 
Salamis, B. C. 306, and to be the most important relic 

308 



of early Hellenic art. It is headless, but instinct with Paris 
grace and life and action, and really seems as if about to 
fly and hurrah. Instinctively we took off our hats and 
stood reverent before it, as the finest thing in the way 
of ancient sculpture we had yet seen anywhere. What 
must she not have been originally, with an appropriate 
head on her glorious shoulders, with a staff in one hand, 
and a trumpet in the other held to her lips, blowing a 
blast of patriotic triumph, as thought to have been? We 
had seen plenty of "Victories" elsewhere, both marble 
and bronze, but nothing to equal this one in breadth of 
conception, in dignity and grace of form and energy of 
movement, as well as artistic treatment of her flowing 
robes. It must have been a great artist that conceived 
and executed this glorious statue. 

Next we passed into a great hall or saloon, where 
the royal and imperial crowns and jewels of France, and 
other objects of vertu, are exhibited in glass cases — 
beautiful and costly beyond description. Here is one 
diamond (the Regent) valued at 12,000,000 francs, and 
a sword of Napoleon First that cost 2,000,000 francs, 
besides other diamonds, rubies, pearls, rock-crystals, 
vases, and enamels, too numerous and valuable to 
mention. 

Next we came to another great saloon and vast cor- 
ridor filled with exquisite paintings, unsurpassed in this 
world. Altogether there are over three thousand pic- 
tures here, many of them masterpieces of all the schools, 
and they cover acres if not miles of space. Here are 
more Raphaels, Titians, and da Vincis, it is said, than 
in any other gallery in Europe. Here is Murillo's "Im- 
maculate Conception," the best thing he ever painted, 

309 



European with the Virgin clothed with the sun, the moon under 
Days and her feet, and her head crowned with stars. It was 
Ways brought from Spain by Marshal Soult during the Na- 
poleonic wars, and sold to the Louvre for 600,000 francs 
or $120,000. Here are Rembrandts, Correggios, Veron- 
eses, del Sartos, Van Dycks, Jan Steens, Paul Potters, 
Lorraines, Poussins, Lebruns, Davids, Vernets, Ary 
Scheffers, Millets, Delacroix, and other great masters, 
both ancient and modern, without end. There is one 
whole saloon of Rubenses — more than all we had seen 
before — many of them superb in conception, drawing, 
and coloring, as his scenes in the life of Marie de 
Medicis, a score or more, every one a gem of its kind. 
We wandered of! from this into side galleries, crowded 
also with handsome pictures, and went home to lunch 
leg-weary and brain-dazed with the extent and variety 
of what we had already seen, as well as their general 
excellence. 

Another day we tried it again, stopping only at the 
best, or what we liked best, and then descended to the 
ground-floor to see the collection of ancient sculptures. 
Here are marbles from Greece, Rome, Carthage, and 
Phoenicia, with statues and busts of Homer, Hercules, 
Trajan, Hadrian, Marcus Aurelius, Julius Caesar, and 
others, and of gods and goddesses innumerable. Here 
especially, in a room by itself, is the famous Venus of 
Milo, the most celebrated of the treasures of the Louvre, 
and exquisite beyond description. This is the only 
statue of Aphrodite extant, which represents her not 
merely as a beautiful woman, but also as a divine god- 
dess. Her torso is not complete — part broken and 
lost — but what is left of it is noble and majestic, and the 

310 



whole statue is alive with an indescribable charm of im- PdHS — 
mortal youth and beauty. The pure and noble expres- The L0UVF6 
sion of her head indicates the goddess's independence 
of all human conditions and the self-sufficiency of her 
own divine character. It stands in the middle of a cir- 
cular room, a piece of pure white marble, against a back- 
ground of maroon hangings, and was constantly sur- 
rounded by a coterie of admirers, male and female, sit- 
ting or standing and criticising it, the day we were 
there. This statue was found in 1820 by a peasant in 
the island of Milo, at the entrance of the Greek Archi- 
pelago, and undoubtedly dates back to the time of 
Phidias and Praxiteles, and well suggests what marvels 
the masterpieces of antiquity must have been. 

On the same floor, across a great court, are the 
Egyptian and the Asiatic Museums, with their wonder- 
ful statues and sarcophagi from Memphis and Thebes, 
and colossal winged bulls from Assyria and Nineveh. 
Then there is a collection of mediaeval and Renaissance 
sculptures; a Marine Museum, with models of ships and 
galleys; an Ethnographical Museum, a Chinese Mu- 
seum, and a thousand other things I have no room to 
mention. Suffice to say, that the Louvre is so vast and 
its saloons and corridors so extensive that it would take 
a man half a day, nearly, merely to walk through them 
without stopping to examine anything. To study it 
properly would take a lifetime and more. But one can 
see a good deal in a week, if he has read up in advance, 
and that is the only way to do a great gallery really. 
One knows then pretty much what he wants to see, and 
proceeds to see it, if he has eyes to see. 

But I must stop particularizing, must condense and 

3ii 



European abbreviate, or we will never get out of Paris. Of course, 
Days and we went to the Luxembourg Gallery, with its splendid 
Ways collection of modern paintings, by Rosa Bonheur, Cab- 
anel, Meissonier, and others, and to its beautiful palace 
and garden; also to the Cluny Hotel and Museum, with 
its wonderful collection of antiquities, weapons, cos- 
tumes, tapestries, laces, and faience; also to the Palace 
of Justice and the old Sainte Chapelle adjoining, "a per- 
fect gem of Gothic architecture," rich in costly carvings 

and exquisite 
stained-glass win- 
dows — nothing 
better in all Eu- 
rope; also to the 
new Hotel de 
Ville, or City Hall, 
massive and beau- 
tiful, both outside 
and inside (the 
old one was 
burned down by 
Place de la the Commune in 1871); also to the Grand Opera-house, 
Paris' t ^ ie ^ ar ^ est i* 1 tne world, costing over $10,000,000, and 
a miracle of beauty and splendor; also to the Gobelin 
factories, with their marvelous tapestries, equal almost 
to oil-paintings; also to the Hotel des Invalides, with 
the magnificent tomb of Napoleon beneath its great 
dome; also to the Arc de Triomphe, the largest arch 
in existence, with twelve great avenues radiating from 
it; also to Pere-la-Chaise, the great cemetery of Paris 
— over one hundred acres — with big and little tombs 
mostly above ground; also to the Place de la Concorde, 

312 




the largest "Place" or square in Paris, the home of the 
guillotine in other days (nearly three thousand persons 
lost their heads here, 1793 to 1795), but now spacious 
and beautiful with fountains and flowers, and the match- 
less obelisk of Luxor; also to the Place de la Bastille, 
the ancient prison-house of the French tyrant-kings, but 
smashed forever by the liberty-loving Revolution; also to 
the Place Vendome, with its Column Vendome (an imi- 
tation of Trajan's at Rome), with its spiral panorama in 
bronze of Napo- 
leonic victories, 
made from 1,200 
Austrian and 
Russian captured 
cannon, with the 
Great Napoleon 
standing guard 
over it; also to 
the Eiffel Tower, 
the highest work 
of men's hands on 
the earth, nine hundred and eighty-four feet, or nearly 
twice the height of our Washington Monument, though 
not so stately and impressive; also to the Tuileries Gar- 
dens, with their wonderful fountains and flowers, the 
Palace destroyed by the Commune, 1871, and not yet 
rebuilt; also to the Trocadero, the Pantheon, the Made- 
leine, Notre Dame, the Champs Elysees, Versailles, 
Sevres, and Saint Cloud. All these we saw, and more, 
with their wealth of architecture and art, both ancient 
and modern; and there is no denying that the French 
have both genius and taste. They not only have a 

313 



Paris- 
Art Works 




Paris, The 
Seine, etc. 



European love of art, as do the Germans also, but an artistic in- 
DflVS and stinct hardly inferior to the Italians or Greeks them- 
Ways selves, and much superior to the Germans. This is 
visible, not only in their museums and galleries, but 
also in their buildings and furniture and everyday life 
as well, though I confess we grew tired of their ever- 
lasting worship of the nude. Of course, the human 
figure is divine; but the French seem to forget that a 
little drapery is sometimes in order — if only a figleaf 
or two. 

The Louvre is certainly grand and glorious, with its 
wealth of pictures and statuary. Napoleon's tomb is 
worthy of their great soldier — one of the greatest sol- 
diers of all time — and of the French people of his day. 
The Pantheon, once a church — dedicated to St. Gene- 
vieve, the patron saint of Paris — is now a magnificent 
Hall of Fame, with Mirabeau, Victor Hugo, Marshal 
Lannes, Baudin, La Tour d'Auvergne — "the first gren- 
adier of France" — and other great Frenchmen buried 
here. Notre Dame is a venerable and majestic pile, 
carrying you back to the Middle Ages. (I dropped my 
umbrella here, enraptured with her glorious windows, 
but an unknown Teuton tourist picked it up and re- 
stored it — all honor to his honest race !) The Madeleine 
is a gem of church architecture, stately and sublime. 
The Trocadero is an Oriental-Spanish-French dream, 
of our modern era. The Champs-Elysees, gently as- 
cending from the Place de la Concorde to the Place 
de l'Etoile, lined with elms and lime-trees, and with 
the great Arc de Triomphe breaking the sky-line at 
the far end of it, a mile and a half away, is a superb 
and magnificent avenue, unsurpassed upon the earth. 

3H 



There is nothing like it in Europe, and nothing in Versailles 
America, except Pennsylvania Avenue, with our own 
matchless National Capitol breaking the sky-line there. 
It is superb by day, with its throngs of people, cabs, 
and carriages; but at night, when aglow with electricity 
and gaslight, it is as ravishing and bewildering as a 
dream of Aladdin. 

Versailles — it is fourteen miles out to Versailles, 
and we went there by railroad. We returned by electric 
tram-cars, on top 
of them, via 
Sevres, St. Cloud, 
and the valley 
of the Seine, 
through the heart 
of Old Paris, by 
its old walls and 
gates. Versailles 
itself is wonder- 
ful, its facade 
alone over a quar- 
ter of a mile in length, and the rest of the great palace Versailles. 
in proportion. Here are magnificent halls and saloons 
crowded with great war-pictures by David, Vernet, 
Delacroix, Gerard, Yvon, Gerome, and others, cover- 
ing the walls by the acre and mile nearly; not daubs, 
but superb works of art, that can not but interest and 
delight every one who has a drop of fighting blood in 
his veins. Here also is the great Hall of Mirrors, where 
King William of Prussia was proclaimed Emperor of 
Germany in 1871, while Von Moltke and Bismarck 
looked on, and doubtless smiled grimly; and outside 

315 




European and on all sides are the wonderful fountains and walks 
Days and and wooded alleys that are the despair of modern land- 
WayS scape gardeners. Indeed, Versailles strikes you as one 
vast miracle of art and prodigy of expense. It cost 
Louis XIV two thousand millions of dollars, and the 
labor of six thousand horses and thirty-six thousand 
men for years, on the buildings and grounds alone, 
without its matchless paintings, furnishings, and faience. 
Voltaire, with characteristic French wit, called it "the 

abyss of ex- 
penses," or the 
Hell of Finances. 
And all this from 
the common peo- 
ple — "the third 
estate" — while 
the nobility and 
clergy, forsooth, 
were exempt 
from taxation ! 
No wonder they 
had the French Revolution over there. It cleaned 
France (and Europe) pretty well, and tore up by the 
roots a thousand old abuses, and tempered despotism, 
and taught kings and emperors everywhere a lesson 
they have not yet forgotten, and will not soon forget. 
And so, I think, it had "extenuating circumstances," 
as the French lawyers say, and that there was some 
excuse, for it, after all. 

We did not go to the Bois de Boulogne, her great 
park of two thousand two hundred and fifty acres, 
largely virgin forest; nor to her great university; nor 

316 




Fountain 

AND 

Gardens, 
Versailles. 



to her National Library, over three million volumes, Paris — 
thirty-seven miles long if in a row — largest in the The Streets 
world; nor to St. Denis, because we lacked time, and 
wanted to see other things first, and so did not get 
there at all, much to our regret. 

Of course, Americans like Paris, and it is an old 
saying that "all good Americans expect to go to Paris 
when they die !" She is not unlike New York and 
Chicago, though not so young and gushing, of course. 
But she has the same air of ease and abandon, as if 
confident of her own equilibrium, and wanting the 
whole world to see and note it. One is struck imme- 
diately with the vastness of her street travel and traffic. 
Multitudes of people, multitudes of cabs and o.mni- 
busses, multitudes of tram-cars everywhere. Where do 
the Parisians all come from? Where are they all going 
to? How do they all live? The street cafes and res- 
taurants account for many of them; but how about the 
remainder? And then, at night, the street-lights and 
street-scenes are marvelous and vast. Not Aladdin, 
with his wonderful lamp, ever conceived of such beauty 
and splendor. 

One evening, after dinner, we took a carriage, and 
rode up the Champs Elysees, and down the Boulevard 
des Italiens, the Boulevard de la Madeleine, the Rue 
Lafayette, the Rue St. Honore, the Rue Rivoli, and 
the whole city seemed exquisite and gorgeous. 

I think Paris as a whole gives one the impression 
of antiquity and beauty, as well as modernity. She 
has no such "sky-scrapers" as Chicago and New York 
(they are not allowed by French law) ; but her buildings 
are more uniform and artistic, both old and new. Many 

317 



Europedll are only rough brick and stone, but stuccoed as in 
Days and Italy. Others are from a peculiar building-stone found 
Ways there, that is soft when first quarried, but hardens on 
exposure. This is put up rough, and afterwards dressed 
and chiseled into shape, often with elaborate ornamenta- 
tion, which accounts for many of her handsome edifices, 
that would be impossible elsewhere. One peculiarity 
is sure to strike you, and that is the multitude of her 
chimney-pots, row upon row, breaking all the sky-line, 
especially in the old quarters; such as the Faubourgs 
St. Martin, St. Antoine, and the Latin Quarter. I do 
not know what is the reason for this, unless it is be- 
cause every room has its own flue, and every flue its 
own chimney-pot. But why Paris should build this 
way, more than other cities, seems strange and uncanny. 
So, also, you are struck by the multitude of her book- 
stores and bookstalls; books for sale along all her old 
streets; on the quays of the Seine; in the shadow of 
Notre Dame; around the Louvre — everywhere nearly — 
both old and new, and, as a rule, very cheap. She cer- 
tainly must be a reading city, if nothing else. Her 
streets are well-paved — chiefly asphalt and wood — and 
cleaned every night, and her cabs and carriages go at 
a speed unlawful elsewhere usually. The rule is for 
pedestrians to look out for them, and not for them to 
look out for pedestrians; and, if you get run down, 
you are liable to be fined for obstructing public travel, 
instead of being paid damages. Her great omnibuses 
— "double-deckers" — do not halt for passengers to get 
on or off, except at fixed stations; but you have to 
scramble in and out the best you can, which is some- 
times the worst for you, especially if aged or ladies. 

318 



Several times we had to jump for them, and once I Paris — 
missed my footing, and came near being dragged down The People 
and run over in the multitude of vehicles. 

Paris did not impress us with the traditional polite- 
ness and courtesy that we had read and heard so much 
about. The Italian is polite all through, and you can 
not but see and feel it. Instinctively he wants to help 
and serve you, regardless of reward. But the French- 
man has only a surface politeness, mere bows and 
grimaces, while at heart he is selfish and mercenary. 
We noticed this everywhere, but particularly on the 
street, and in the shops and galleries, where nobody 
wanted to serve one in any way, without being lib- 
erally "tipped." We saw but few well-dressed people, 
as a rule, to our real astonishment. The "blue blouse" 
was not much in evidence, evidently disappearing as 
a badge of labor and poverty. The lower classes, as a 
rule, were fairly well-clad and comfortable. But the 
better classes all seemed to go to derby and slouch 
hats, and sack coats, instead of "stovepipes" and Prince 
Alberts, as we expected. So, too, there were no "Grand 
Dames" in Paris then, or at least we saw but few of 
them. They may have been at the seaside or in the 
mountains, as it was still August; but, at all events, if 
we noticed a well-dressed lady, on the streets or else- 
where, she was pretty sure to be an American on her 
travels. The type was unmistakable, and we rejoiced 
in our fair countrywomen. The galleries and museums, 
as well as Worth's and the Bon Marche, were alive 
with them, though the "Bon Marche" does not sur- 
pass (if it equals) our John Wanamaker's. 

It is true that Paris is living somewhat upon her 
319 



European past glories, perhaps, but one can not help observing 
Days and that she still abounds in art and science, in architecture 
Ways and talent. It is true we did not see many new build- 
ings (no churches) going up on her streets generally; 
but this was because she was bending all her energies 
to getting ready for her great Exposition of 1900. She 
had torn up many of her streets, and was repairing 
and repaying them; was building tramways for electric 
cars, both surface and underground, to get rid of her 
multitudinous cabs and omnibuses; and down along 
the Seine she was erecting colossal Exposition Build- 
ings that in 1900 were the wonder of the world. She 
must have great engineers and architects and artists 
still, as well as intelligent and skilled workingmen, or 
she could never do all this. So, also, her new Hotel 
de Ville, Trocadero, and Eiffel Tower are marvels of 
architecture and art, and evidently France has not lost 
her head yet, if her heart has gone wrong in some ways 
and things. 

The Dreyfus case, that hideous French nightmare, 
was still on while we were in Paris, and everything 
there seemed on the edge of a volcano. M. Guerin was 
still besieged in Fort Chabrol, as his printing-house 
was called, and nobody could tell what a day would 
bring forth. Many Americans we met in Holland and 
Belgium would not go to France at all, and others we 
met in Paris were hastening away; and they were not 
to be blamed; for revolutions are ugly things, especially 
French revolutions. We had more faith in the Re- 
public and so ventured on, as I have already said. It 
was curious and instructive to watch the Parisians and 
to talk to them. There was no real disorder anywhere, 

320 



except Fort Chabrol, but intense excitement every- Paris — 
where. Dreyfus was on every tongue, and everybody The DreyfllS 

was for or against him. But prudent Parisians disliked Affair 
to talk. Evidently they did not want to be quoted, 
if things went wrong, and nobody knew what was 
right or wrong just then, nor which side was going 
to win. Only President Loubet and Gallifet, his war 
minister, seemed to know their own minds, and they 
were resolved that the new trial should go on, come 
what may and cost what it would. But there was to 
be no disorder in Paris or the provinces, and the law 
was to triumph, whichever side won. We went up 
to Fort Chabrol one day, and inspected it as closely 
as allowed, and I thought they made a mistake in not 
snuffing Guerin out at once; a squad of gendarmes or 
a handful of soldiers could have done it, as it afterwards 
proved. But it might have cost bloodshed, and evi- 
dently Loubet wanted none of that till the Dreyfus 
affair was over and ended. 

Indeed, it was all very Frenchy, and to say that is 
to size up the whole situation. It was every party 
against the Republic, and yet the Republic endured 
and endures. On the one side were the Imperialists, the 
Monarchists, the Clericals, and the Jew-haters, all 
shouting for "the honor of the army," but really mean- 
ing, "Death to the Republic!" With them stood the 
lower orders, ignorant and bigoted, led by the priests, 
really patriotic, and believing in the army as their - 
weapon of revenge. On the the other side stood Drey- 
fus, with Loubet, Gallifet, Picquart, Zola, Labori, and 
the real intellect and conscience of France, with the 
best men in France — nearly all her Protestant people — 
21 321 



European battling for the right and resolved on justice, cost what 
Days and it might. It was a great battle a Voutrance, with the 
Ways whole world looking on. Clearly, President Loubet 
deserves infinite credit for managing things even as well 
as he did. Anyhow, he steered the Republic safely 
through, and sent Dreyfus home to his wife and chil- 
dren, amid the applause of Christendom. It must be 
remembered that it was not America nor England, 
nor even Germany, that he had to deal with, but France 
— La Belle France, indeed, but mercurial, irrepressible, 
exceptional, revolutionary France — and he certainly 
saved her from a sanguinary and destructive civil war. 
On all her public buildings, and over many of her 
churches even, France has engraved or painted her 
great national motto, "Liberty, Equality, and Fra- 
ternity." It stares at you everywhere in Paris, but often 
seems like a mockery and a sham. Evidently, France 
does not mean it nor comprehend it, and she will have 
to go to school to George Washington and William 
McKinley a good many years before she does. For the 
essence of it is justice to every human being, however 
humble or however great, and she has not even begun 
to learn this yet. She is polite on the surface, as goes 
without saying; but she is not honest, she is not moral, 
she is not sincere, nor truly religious. Her heart has 
been eaten out of her by the Roman Catholic Church, 
which has made her a nation of devotees and atheists, 
and exposed her to the scorn and contempt of the civ- 
ilized world. Of course, the Church was against the 
Republic, and had never a word of sympathy or pity 
for poor Dreyfus — more shame to her and to her irrep- 
arable damage ! 

322 



French vanity and conceit are beyond conception. Paris — 
In the great picture-galleries of Versailles, among acres The Army 
of other superb war-paintings, is one of ''General Roch- 
ambeau and Washington at the Siege of Yorcktown" 
(so spelled), with little Rochambeau in the foreground 
and great Washington in the rear, as if the Gallic 
bantam did all the business there! And so it is every- 
where, until one gets everlastingly tired of French 
braggadocio and French gasconade. 

Her army is moth-eaten and honeycombed by cor- 
ruption and fraud, by imbecility and cowardice. Her 
army chiefs (Mercier, Roget, Boisdeffre, Gonse, and 
the rest) have sunk beneath contempt, as liars, per- 
jurers, and forgers, or suborners thereof — ought all to 
be sent to Devil's Island for conspiring to send poor 
Dreyfus there — and the rank and file are worthy of 
such chiefs. It was Aristotle who said, "An army of 
stags led by a lion is better than an army of lions led 
by a stag." I never saw such undersized, ill-kempt, 
slouchy-looking officers and soldiers as everywhere in 
Paris, and I do not wonder at their insubordination 
and mutiny and murder of superior officers in Africa. 
Of course, the Germans would walk right over them 
again, and the English would give them another Water- 
loo on every battlefield. They could not stand an hour 
against Sherman's "bummers" or Roosevelt's "Rough 
Riders." It will take a generation of hard work, of 
drill and discipline, to put the French army again upon 
its feet. And meanwhile Germany will "wax fat and 
kick," and laugh poor France still further to scorn. 

Unquestionably, France is in a bad way. Like 
Spain and the other Latin nations, she seems to have 

3*3 



European become degenerate and decadent. Only the spelling- 
Days and book and the Bible can save her. She has gifts and 
Ways graces still, as evidenced by her still holding on to the 
Republic. But any day she is liable to "shoot Niagara," 
and then woe to the French people ! Of course, Rennes 
was worse than Sedan or Waterloo. They were only 
physical defeats; but the verdict at Rennes was the 
abdication of faith, the triumph of unreason, a mockery 
of right and justice, a brutal defiance of both morals 
and religion, and no nation can do that and live, unless 
she repents in sackcloth and ashes, and "brings forth 
works meet for repentance." 

We spent a Sunday also in Paris, and went to the 
English church not far away from our hotel. It was 
a goodly edifice, with a capacity of five or six hundred 
people, and comfortably filled, mostly English and 
Americans. The sermon was wholesome, and the serv- 
ice, on the whole, uplifting and edifying. Afterwards, 
on our way home, we stopped in at the Madeleine, and 
found a congregation of only about half the size, lost 
in its vast spaces. It is a great Grecian temple, with 
no windows, except three circular ones in the roof, and 
these flood it with light; a very grand and stately build- 
ing, reminding you somewhat of the old Pantheon at 
Rome. In the evening we took a stroll through the 
Garden of the Tuileries, across the Place de la Con- 
corde, and so up the Champes Elysees, which was black 
with people and crowded with cabs, carriages, and 
coaches, returning from the Bois de Boulogne and the 
Eongchamp races. It had been an ideal Sunday, a 

" Sweet day : so cool, so calm, so bright, 
The bridal of the earth and sky," 

3 2 4 



as old George Herbert wrote, and the Parisians were Paris — 
out enjoying it to the full. Our general weather in Sabbath 
Paris had been overcast and cool, somewhat resembling Keeping 
Holland, but this particular Sunday made up for our 
other days there. There was no disorder, but a good 
deal of hilarity, as would be expected in men returning 
from the races. We saw no Grand Dames nor French 
gentlemen here either — only a good-natured, big Pari- 
sian crowd. Of course, there was no general observance 
of the Sabbath — that would not have been Frenchlike — 
but I confess there was more observance of it than we 
expected. On the Rue St. Honore, Rue Rivoli, and 
the other streets we passed through, there was no gen- 
eral work or business going on. Most of the shops 
and stores, indeed, were closed all day, and all in the 
afternoon and evening, and labor generally suspended. 
In our own hotel, masons and carpenters were at work 
all day; but this was to complete repairs and altera- 
tions urgently needed there, and might have happened 
in America under like circumstances. On the great 
Exposition buildings nothing was being done, the Gov- 
ernment having ordered due Sabbath observance there 
— all honor to the Republic ! Of course, the cafes and 
restaurants were all open, or gay Paris would starve. 
The above observations may not accord with others. 
But I think Ta Belle Paris (the Beautiful, the Mag- 
nificent, the Artistic, the Pleasure-loving, and Half- 
Pagan Paris, so called) should have the benefit of the 
same, nevertheless. 



325 




Chapter XXVI 

E left Paris, September 4th, at 10 A. M., 
and reached London about 7 P. M. We 
went by way of Dieppe, and crossed the 
Channel to Beachy Head and New Haven, 
and thence by rail to London. Our route lay first down 
the valley of the Seine, and thence by Rouen to Dieppe, 
and the ride was altogether charming. The quaint 
French landscape was everywhere idyllic, and Rouen 
antique and interesting. Dieppe is not much of a place, 
and we found the Channel as placid as a millpond. Our 
little steamer, the Sussex, was crowded with English 
and Americans returning from the Continent, but no- 
body was seasick. The smell of the salt sea air was wel- 
come again, and everybody seemed glad to be rid of 
France and all French ways. It took us three hours to 
make the run from Dieppe to New Haven, and we were 
truly glad to reach there, and to feel ourselves once more 
in "God's country," or something akin to it. Certainly 
Old England seemed to be our own country, or some- 
thing very like it, with some differences. It was de- 
lightful once more to hear the English tongue, and 
to speak and be spoken to by everybody, about every- 
thing, everywhere. It is true the English do not speak 
"American" exactly. They differ in intonation and 
emphasis, and speak more down in their throats than 

326 



we Americans do. But, then, you can make out to England 
understand what they say, as a rule, even at their worst, 
which is sometimes really barbarous; and this is great 
gain surely, after hobbling through Italian, German, 
Dutch, and French for three months or more, as we 
had been doing. The very signboards and handbills 
were interesting. Everybody seemed talking all the 
time, and the flavor of the old speech was never so 
charming. 

We passed up through Sussex and Surrey — two 
beautiful English counties, not unlike our own Sussex 
County, N. J., named after the old English county. 
The country was mostly flat and monotonous; not so 
rolling as our New Jersey Sussex, and without its lovely 
"ponds" or lakes, but with large grainfields and broad 
pastures, alive with horses, cattle, and sheep; not much 
woodland, indeed, but abundance of handsome trees 
everywhere — oaks, elms, and beeches along all the 
division lines, and scattered in clumps or singly through 
the fields, much more than in America; no fences, as 
a rule, but hedges and ditches everywhere, but these 
less well-kept than we expected. We had expected 
to see the English hedge the perfection of every- 
thing in that line; but there are hedges in New Jersey 
and Eastern Pennsylvania better than the average 
Sussex and Surrey hedge. There were no great man- 
sions or castles, but plenty of unpretending farmhouses 
of brick or stone, covered with red tiles or gray slate, 
and few barns of much size — nothing like those in 
Switzerland and America. The English stack their 
grain near their farm-buildings — too near for safety 
from fire — and thresh at their convenience, as a rule. 

3^7 



European They have many potato and turnip fields, wide acres 
Days and in extent — more so than in America. As you get up 
Ways into Surrey, there is some rolling country, with distant 
hills and nice landscapes; but the approach to London- 
is flatter than about Trenton and Philadelphia. The 
Thames seems small — not much larger than the Dela- 
ware at Trenton, if any, but deeper, and covered with 
a forest of masts, and lined with a wilderness of smoke- 
stacks. 

And so we entered London, landing at Victoria Sta- 
tion. Here we spent the next two days only, and then 
hastened north, hoping to see something of Scotland 
also before bad weather set in. We had planned to 
"do" the Scotch Lakes and Trosachs, at least, and 
wanted to see Edinburgh and Glasgow anyhow. We 
went north by way of Cambridge and Ely, but did 
not see much of either, except their distant towers and 
spires from the railroad. We halted at Lincoln, York, 
and Durham, and saw each of the great cathedrals 
there, and were amazed at their size and solidity, and 
charmed with their beauty and religiousness. They are 
all superb specimens of Norman and Norman-Gothic 
architecture, and are all of dark-gray stone, with lofty 
towers and battlements, and 

"Storied windows richly dight, 
Casting a dim religious light ; 

frozen music, poems in stone; not lyrics, but grand 
epics rather. Their interior decorations amount to lit- 
tle, compared with Italian cathedrals; but in dignity, 
sublimity, and religiousness they are unsurpassed, and 
indeed seem unsurpassable. There is nothing tawdry 

328 



or petty about them — no gimcracks and tinsel — like English 
some of the Continental cathedrals; but they are vast, CflthedFdlS 
uplifting, and sublime, with a sober dignity and grandeur 
and solemn impressiveness all their own. They date 
from the eleventh and twelfth centuries; were all built 
three centuries or more before Columbus discovered 
America; and how England then possessed the artistic 
taste and mechanic skill to erect such vast and glorious 
edifices, and the money to pay for them, excites one's 
wonder and surprise. They each cost millions of dol- 
lars and years of labor. Where did the money come 
from in those days of small things? It is certain Eng- 
land is building no such cathedrals to-day;* hasn't the 
money and labor to spare, though she is taking reverent 
and loving care of these ancient ones. 

An English canon we met, of Durham Cathedral — 
a very learned and scholarly man — told me he did not 
know how England did it, but he ventured this opinion. 
He said in those days they had no army or navy to 
provide for; no railroads, canals, telegraphs; no banks 
and big manufacturing plants to put their money into; 
no colonies, no steamship lines; and, consequently, all 
their surplus cash went into their cathedrals. More- 
over, there was only one Church then, and everybody 
believed he had a soul to save, and if he had sinned, the 
best way to repent was to help the Church. Hence, 
some built a tower, others an altar, others a window, 
and so on, as a means of grace. The architects and 
skilled mechanics worked for small pay, and the com- 
mon laborers for only their victuals and clothes, believ- 



* The Catholics, however, now building one in London, and the Meth- 
odists contemplating - another there. 

329 



European 
Days and 
, Ways 



Lincoln 
Cathedral. 



ing they were doing God's work. So the great cathe- 
drals went up, slowly but surely, and costing but little 
real cash after all. And as for the artistic skill, this was 
a characteristic of that age, and extended all over Eu- 
rope. We had seen it in Germany, Holland, Belgium, 
and France, and here it was flamboyant again in Eng- 
land. His surmise seemed chock-full of sense, and I 
give it here accordingly; though the common people 
in England used to believe that these great edifices 

were chiefly the 
work of angels 
and demons, par- 
ticularly when 
they saw no more 
being built. The 
Lincoln Cathedral 
crowns a high hill, 
and is said to be 
"the finest church 
in Great Britain," 
in respect to size, 
delicacy of detail, good preservation, and grandeur of 
position. It is four hundred and eighty feet long by 
eighty feet wide (two hundred and twenty across the 
transepts), and eighty-two feet high, with towers two 
hundred and sixty-two and two hundred feet high, re- 
spectively, and greatly impresses one. It dates back 
to about the year noo. 

Lincoln itself is an old place, dating back to old 
Roman days, when it was one of the nine privileged 
Roman colonies in England. It is now a town of forty- 
two thousand inhabitants, the county-seat of Eincoln- 

330 




shire, and is chiefly occupied with the manufacture of 
agricultural implements. They show you here the re- 
mains of an old Roman basilica, and also an old Roman 
city-gate (Newport), said to date back to B. C. 50, or 
about that time. The old Roman Road (Watling Street 
or Ermine Street) from London went directly through 
Lincoln, straight as an arrow for miles, north to Hull, 
and so to York and Durham. 

The York Cathedral or Minster is also on rising 
ground, and is 
one of the largest 
and grandest in 
England. It is 
live hundred and 
twenty-five feet 
long by one hun- 
dred and ten feet 
wide (two hun- 
dred and fifty feet 
across the tran- 
septs), and one 
hundred feet high, with towers two hundred and thir- 
teen and two hundred and two feet high, respectively. 
It is built of magnesian limestone, on the site of an 
old wooden church, erected about the year 62J. This 
was succeeded by a stone basilica, which was burned 
down in the eighth century. A third church was erected 
here, and burned down in 1069 by William the Con- 
queror, and a fourth followed. The present edifice was 
begun in n 54, and not finished until 1472. It is the 
finest example of the decorated style in England, with 
elaborate carving everywhere, both inside and outside, 

33i 



York 
Minster 




York 

Minster. 



European yet there is a symmetry of design and simplicity about 
Days and the whole peculiarly pleasing. In original stained glass 
Ways it excels all other English cathedrals, the "Jesse Win- 
dow," the "Marigold Window," and the great "East 
Window" (seventy-eight by thirty-three feet), being 
particularly fine. The Chapter-house is considered the 
most beautiful in England, and bears the handsome 
Latin inscription, "Ut rosa Hos iiorwn, sic est domns ista 
domorum." 

York also is an old place — the Eboracum of the 
Romans — situated on the little River Ouse. It is now a 
town of about seventy thousand inhabitants, the county- 
seat of Yorkshire, with few signs of industry or growth, 
living chiefly upon its past glories. In the second cen- 
tury it was the capital of Britain under the Romans, 
and their chief station, the headquarters of the Sixth 
Legion, and the frequent residence of their emperors. 
Severus died and was buried here in 211, and Constan- 
tine the Great was proclaimed emperor here in 306. 
Doubtless, Julius Caesar and Agricola were both here 
at times. It retained its importance in the Saxon 
period, and was the center from which Christianity 
spread throughout the north of England. The title 
Duke of York is borne by one of the royal family only, 
and the mayors of York share with those of London 
and Dublin the right to prefix "Lord" to their official 
names. The old city walls still stand, and greatly in- 
terest one. These were built about the middle of the 
fourteenth century, on the line of the old Roman walls 
in part, and the view from these is picturesque and pleas- 
ing. We ascended the walls by old stone steps, and 
walked along them for a mile or two, and then descended 

332 



by an old Roman tower to the Minster, and afterwards Durham 
rambled about some old and narrow streets, with tim- Cathedral 
bered and overhanging houses that reminded one of 
Florence and Nuremberg. We got a poor lunch here, 
and went on to Durham the same afternoon. 

The Durham Cathedral, or "Abbey," as called lo- 
cally, is not so large as Lincoln or York, but is said to 
be "the grandest Norman building in England." It 
also is situated on a rocky bluff or hill, and in many 
respects is of surpassing interest. It is five hundred 
and ten feet long by eighty feet wide (one hundred and 
seventy across the transepts), and seventy feet high, 
with towers two hundred and fourteen and one hundred 
and thirty-eight feet high, respectively. The first church 
here was built about 995, when the body of St. Cuth- 
bert was brought and deposited here by the monks of 
Tindisfarne, after wandering about with it almost all 
over the north of England. The present cathedral fol- 
lowed about 1 100, but was not completed until 1480. 
On entering the nave you get a full-length view of the 
whole edifice, and are struck with its grandeur and 
solemnity. Dr. Johnson describes it as giving him an 
impression of "rocky solidity and indeterminate dura- 
tion," and this sums it up pretty well. Its massive walls 
and enormous columns — richly but simply carved — 
and vaulted ceilings, and superb windows, greatly im- 
press one, and it seems indeed as solid as a mountain 
and as lasting as eternity. It contains a shrine to the 
Venerable Bede, and his remains are believed to be 
interred here; also an old oaken chest, containing the 
bones of St. Cuthbert, or what is left of them. On the 
outside are grotesque corbels and gargoyles, and a 

333 



European quaint old door-knocker, and also the sculptured figure 

Days and of a cow, commemorating the legend that the monks 

Ways of Lindisfarne were led by a dun cow to bring the 

relics of St. Cuthbert to this spot, and so locate the 

great cathedral here. 

Durham itself is the county-town of a shire of that 
name, and a city of 16,000 inhabitants only. It lies in a 
horseshoe loop or bend of the little River Wear, and the 
Bishop of Durham was formerly a formidable prelate, 

being lord mili- 
tary and civil, as 
well as ecclesi- 
astical of all that 
region, with vast 
revenues. His old 
castle still stands, 
on the neck of the 
peninsula caused 
by the bend of the 
Wear — erected 
by William the 
Conqueror in 1072 — but is now in better use as Durham 
University. In Cromwell's time, "Old Noll" abolished 
the episcopacy here, and ordered the castle turned into 
a college or university. But it did not materialize until 
1833. We spent a day here, exploring the cathedral 
and the old castle or university, and were well repaid 
by what we saw. The kings and queens of England 
and Scotland used to stop here in journeying to and 
from England and London, and we were shown their 
great banqueting hall and royal apartments, full of 
antique cabinets, bedsteads, chairs, and hangings, in- 

334 




The Nave, 

Durham 

Cathedral. 



eluding a bed of Charles I, a table and desk of Judge The East 
Jeffreys, and other curiosities. COQSt 

Our route lay up the east coast of England, and we 
found the country mainly flat or only gently rolling, 
like Western New York or Northern Illinois. The 
east coast especially much resembles Holland and Bel- 
gium, with ditches, drains, canals, and windmills every- 
where. It was originally fens and marshes bordering 
on the North Sea, the whole region indeed called the 
"Fen Country," but is now drained and the sea diked 
out, and magnificent meadows and succulent pastures 
make it the very paradise of flocks and herds. Only 
geese and fisher- folks were there formerly, and men 
moving about on high stilts and in small boats; but now 
horses, cattle, sheep, and pigs are everywhere. Indeed, 
the east coast is often called the Holland of England, 
with vessels sailing along in the air the same as on 
the Dutch canals; and many of the people there are 
descendants of the Dutch, who came over from Hol- 
land with William III, in 1688. They saw the future 
that lay in the fens when diked and drained, and settled 
there in considerable numbers. But when they got well 
to work the primitive inhabitants rose and drove them 
out, as "carpet-baggers" and intruders, burning their 
houses and ricks and destroying their dikes and canals, 
because interfering with their old and established in- 
dustries; to wit, goose-breeding and fishing. But it 
is pretty hard to exterminate such amphibious crea- 
tures as Dutchmen; and so, in time, the Hollanders 
got established there — at least some of them — and they 
still survive in the language, names, and customs now 
existing there. 

335 



European We entered Scotland at Berwick-on-Tweed, and 

Days and passing Dunbar (where Cromwell once smote the 
ways Scots hip and thigh, for their good, as it turned out), 
rode thence to Edinburgh along a bluff and rocky coast, 
with far-stretching views of the North Sea most of the 
way. It was like a ride along the New England coast, 
with the Atlantic fretting and foaming at one's feet, 
and we enjoyed every mile of it. It is a fine farming 
country, with noble farms running quite down to the 
sea nearly everywhere. The farmers were just through 
with their grain-harvesting, and their fine barns were 
surrounded with great stackyards, that spoke well for 
Scotland and Scotch farmers. No sickles and scythes 
are in use here, as in Italy and Germany; but patent 
mowers, and reapers and binders, and steam-threshers 
everywhere. There are no fences, either, and not many 
hedges, but solid stone walls along the roads and 
through the fields, the first cost of which, of course, 
was large, but they were there to stay, generation after 
generation. Many sheep were also in evidence, but not 
so many as in England. Large fields of turnips and 
potatoes also abounded. 

Edinburgh, I confess, was something of a disap- 
pointment; not so large, nor so business-like, as we 
anticipated (having only about two hundred and fifty 
thousand population); but "beautiful for situation," 
with Arthur's Seat towering above it, and worthy of 
romantic and canny Scotland. Edinburgh dates back 
only to about 617, when King Edwin of Northumbria 
established a fortress on the castle-rock here, around 
which a little town soon grew up, called "Edwin's 
Burgh" or "Edwin's Town." The history of the city 

336 



is practically the history of the old castle, which has Edinburgh 
been besieged and burnt and retaken a dozen times 
or more, by Cromwell and others, but has always re- 
mained the eye and heart of Scotland. The old rock 
slopes gradually to Holyrood on the east, and a good 
road ascends thence to the top; but on the other three 
sides it descends almost perpendicularly, and is prac- 
tically impregnable. 

. We took a carriage and drove up to the castle 
gate. Here we alighted, and, crossing the ancient draw- 
bridge and moat, passed under the old portcullis, and 
so into the castle proper. Here we were shown the 
Crown Room, containing the ancient Scottish regalia; 
Queen Mary's Room, in which James I of England 
was born in 1566; the old Parliament Hall, now a mu- 
seum and armory; and St. Margaret's Chapel, the oldest 
building in Edinburgh, dating back to 1100, and with 
its rude doors and quaint little windows looking quite 
that old. In front of the chapel is a huge cannon, 
called "Mons Meg," formerly believed to have been 
cast at Mons in Belgium, but now ascribed to Scottish 
skill. It quite overlooks the town and country, and 
could make a big noise and do much damage, if equal 
to its size and caliber. The whole summit is crowned 
by batteries, and a magnificent view of the city and the 
Firth of Forth, and of the Pentland Hills in the back- 
ground, is had from the Bomb Battery and other points. 
The garrison was composed of Scotch Highlanders, in 
their picturesque but absurd dress for actual service, 
their knees and legs quite bare; and we were a good deal 
interested in talking with their officers and men. It was 
a raw cold day, but they protested their uniforms were 
22 337 



European all right, and they were certainly a healthy-looking and 

Days and trim, well-set-up lot of soldiers. 

Ways Next we drove to Holyrood Palace, the old residence 
of the Scottish kings, and saw the ill-fated rooms of Mary 
Queen of Scots, with the stain on the floor caused by 
the blood of her favorite Rizzio when he was justly 
assassinated. Here, also, is a great collection of por- 
traits of Scottish kings, that seem all to have been 
brothers, or all to have been painted by the same artist, 
chiefly out of his imagination. This old palace was once 
Holyrood Abbey, and the ruins of the old Holyrood 
Chapel adjoining are still vast and imposing. One 
would think Scotland would have preserved this beau- 
tiful chapel in some way, and not suffered it thus to fall 
into decay and ruin. It might yet be restored, and ought 
to be, for the sake of "auld lang syne." 

Next we went to Old St. Giles, where John Knox, 
the uncrowned king of Scotland, used to thunder against 
Queen Mary and her corrupt court from Sunday to Sun- 
day; and then down to John Knox's house, where he 
used to live and pray, "Give me Scotland or I die," and 
from the window of which he preached to the people in 
the open square. It is only a little window, but he knew 
how to preach great sermons from it, and to make Mary 
and all Scotland, and sometimes England as well, trem- 
ble at his words. We sat in his old chair, and saw the 
table on which he wrote, and the bed in which he slept, 
and were filled and thrilled with the spirit of the great 
preacher. Here also we saw an exquisite little picture 
of Mary Queen of Scots, and could well realize what a 
witchery and charm she exercised over the men of her 
age and time. No wonder Queen Elizabeth cut off her 

338 



head. If she had not done it, Mary would have beheaded Edinburgh 
or dethroned her. 

Not far away, in an open square near St. Giles, for- 
merly a churchyard, is a rude stone in the street pave- 
ment, marked "I. K. 1572," and here is the grave of 
John Knox, exposed to every passer-by. One would 
have supposed that Scotland would have done better 
than this by John Knox, her greatest son, and of course 
she has elsewhere. But he should have a more fitting 
memorial here. On the other side of the old church, 
also in the street pavement, is the figure of a great heart, 
marking the site of the old Tolbooth or city prison, and 
known as the "Heart of Midlothian." Here at St. Giles, 
and in its surroundings, we are on Scotch historic 
ground, and every good Scotchman lifts his hat and 
breathes a prayer for "bonnie Scotland." 

Afterwards we drove to the elaborate (too elaborate) 
monument of Sir Walter Scott, near the Waverly Hotel 
and Station; to the Wellington Statue; the Nelson 
Statue; through Princes, George, and Queen Streets — 
three as handsome streets, perhaps, as there are in Eu- 
rope; but otherwise Edinburgh did not impress us favor- 
ably. Its buildings are tall and streets narrow, except 
in the newer portions, and it seemed well to deserve the 
name of "Auld Reekie!" A cloud of coal-smoke hov- 
ered ominously over it. Its tall houses reeked with dirt 
and grime. Scotch whisky and gin mills abounded 
everywhere, with some "Temperance Hotels" however. 
Its streets were muddy and dripping. A "Scotch mist" 
prevailed daily, that usually thickened into rain. The 
weather grew cold and "beastly" (that 's good English), 
and we resolved to "about face" and get back to "Merrie 

339 



European England." We were sorry to give up the Scotch lakes, 
Days and and the Trosachs, and Glasgow; but we had already 
Ways taken heavy colds, and feared to venture farther into 
"the land of cakes and ale" in September. 

The Scots did not seem to mind the weather, how- 
ever. They tramped about the streets with thick shoes 
and woolen clothing, and went off on excursions to 
Arthur's Seat, the Firth of Forth Bridge, Abbotsford, 
and the like attractive points, on tops of omnibuses, 
chatting gayly, both men and women, though some did 
condescend to carry umbrellas and lap-robes. The next 
week the London papers reported snow north of the 
Tweed, and an English friend told us confidentially, that 
the Scotch climate was "always beastly; nine months 
w-inter and three months bad weather, do n't you know !" 



34° 






Chapter XXVII 

ETURNING to England, we penetrated into WintertOH 
Lincolnshire, to see Winterton, the little 
place my grandparents came from in 1795 — 
James Rusling and Mary Fowler, after both 
of whom I was named. We found it to be a typical 
English village, of twelve hundred inhabitants or so, 
about four miles from everywhere; no railroad there, 
and the nearest station (Appleby) about four miles dis- 
tant. But it is in the heart of Lincolnshire, in the midst 
of a beautiful and fertile district, and it would seem one 
could doze his life away there forever. The country is 
as level as Delaware, but with the Yorkshire hills in the 
distance, and thoroughly cultivated — no finer farming* 
anywhere. There were great fields of turnips and pota- 
toes everywhere, and the whole country-side was liter- 
ally swarming with grainstacks, as trim and precise as 
a New England Quaker. These Lincolnshire farmers 
pride themselves on their grainstacking, and they cer- 
tainly have reduced it to a fine art. 

The village itself lies at the junction of five fine 
roads, with the old Crosskeys Inn at their intersection, 
as if the key to unlock them all, and with true English 
one-story brick or stone houses, flush with the street, 
straggling along them all. It contains one or two large 
mansions, surrounded by extensive grounds, inclosed 

341 



European by high brick walls; but the rest are simply English cot- 
DayS and tages and village residences, homelike and cheerful with 
Ways roses, geraniums, and marigolds, and bubbling over with 
chubby-faced English children. 

A goodly Wesleyan chapel of red brick — not am- 
bitious to be called a church yet, but squinting that 
way — adorns the lower part of the village, and the farm- 
ers and humbler folk thronged this the Sunday we were 
there. On the rising ground, crowning the town and 
well overlooking it and the surrounding country, stands 
the old parish church, "All Saints," a solid stone edifice, 
erected about i ioo, and apparently indestructible. This, 
also, was well filled the Sabbath we were there, but by 
the gentry and better classes apparently. It has a square 
stone tower, after the style of most English country 
churches, surmounted by a cock and cross, and contains 
a fine chime of bells, said to be five hundred years old. 
In the church porch is a little oaken door (a door in a 
door), on old iron hinges, black with age, and savoring 
of antiquity. Inside is a quaint old stone baptismal font, 
with the inscription, "With the Holy Ghost He shall 
Baptize you," and the date 1663. The aisles and floor 
are all stone, of course, and the seats old English oak. 
Over the chancel is the Scripture motto, "I love them 
that love me, and those that seek me early shall find 
me," and on either side are the Ten Commandments 
and the Creed in old English text of blue and gold. 
The roof, of course, is vaulted oak. The effect of it all 
is severe simplicity, and churchly good taste, and I never 
saw a more devout congregation of worshipers. Every- 
body participated in the service, both in the hymns and 
prayers, and all seemed to be edified thereby. The ser- 

342 



moiis were of a high order, especially in the evening, WinteitOIl 
when Rev. Dr. Fowler, a kinsman of mine, preached. 
Here we found the record of my grandmother's birth 
in 1 766, and of her marriage in 1 787, and the old family 
records back to Cromwell's time nearly. Outside, in the 
surrounding graveyard, we found our old family graves 
for a century and more, and heard the same old bells ring 
that have been ringing there at their marriages and 
funerals for centuries at least. 

Down the street, a few hundred yards away, is the 
old stone house in which my grandmother was born, 
and her people before her and since, for one hundred 
and fifty years or more. Her grand-nephew now owns 
and occupies it — Rev. Joseph T. Fowler, D. C. h., afore- 
said, canon of Durham Cathedral and professor in the 
university there — a man of parts and character. For 
the next week and more he devoted himself to his Amer- 
ican cousins, and gave us an insight into English life 
and character that we would otherwise have missed. He 
was a bachelor, and his home consisted only of himself 
and spinster sister. But it was a typical English home, 
and perfect of its kind, with solid ease and comfort, cul- 
ture and refinement. We soon became "chummy," and, 
it goes without saying, talked all day and half the night, 
and parted at last with unaffected regret and real reluct- 
ance on both sides. 

Together we explored Winterton and the country- 
side there, and rambled far and near. One day we drove 
up to Wintringham, a little village four miles north, 
where my grandfather first learned storekeeping over a 
century ago, and went into business for himself after 
marrying; a quaint old, place, not half the size of Winter- 

343 



European ton, but with a fine old parish church and rectory, situate 
Days and on the old Roman road from Lincoln to Hull. In the 
Ways church is a tablet to the poet Henry Kirke White, born 
here and much beloved, and an old marble effigy of a 
knight in armor, with his feet resting on a lion, so old 
nobody knows who he is. It was formerly near the 
altar, but was removed as Roman Catholic or heathen- 
ish, and now reposes in an obscure corner — a sign of 
the Low Church tendency of the times. Outside, in the 
old churchyard, are some superb elms and walnuts, and 
gravestones innumerable. The old church and rectory 
are both exquisite in their way, and seem to have grown 
up unconsciously, as a part and parcel of the noble old 
Lincolnshire landscape there. 

Another day we went over to Epworth — the birth- 
place of John and Charles Wesley — only a few miles 
from Winterton, but hard to get at, because off the chief 
lines of railway. Like Winterton, it is a few miles from 
everywhere — three and one-half miles from the river 
Trent; four and one-half from Haxey; five and one-half 
from Crowle; thirteen from Bantrey; twelve from Gains- 
borough; sixteen from Doncaster; thirty from Lincoln; 
and one hundred and sixty-five from London. It is a 
little town of some two thousand inhabitants, and the 
center and capital of the "Isle of Axholme," a section 
of Lincolnshire surrounded by Rivers Trent, Idle, and 
Don; and hence so called. 

The chief things there, of course, are the old Ep- 
worth rectory and church, and both are indeed admi- 
rable. We went first to the rectory, the home of the 
Wesleys — where Samuel and Susannah Wesley bred 
nineteen children, ten of whom grew to maturity — and 

344 



passed thence through the handsome old garden with EpWOFth 
its apple-trees and flowers, its dahlias, marigolds, chrys- 
anthemums, and cabbages, and down the old street to 
the gracious old church, where both Samuel and John 
Wesley preached. Near the side door is the flat grave- 
stone of Samuel Wesley, upon which John stood and 
preached when no longer allowed to occupy his fathers 
pulpit, though still a clergyman of the English Church. 
Little did the narrow-minded bigots of his day compre- 
hend him and his mission, or foresee his great future. 
The old parish church is severely simple, but truly Eng- 
lish, and the ancient churchyard outside, with its flagged 
walks and stately trees and crowded graves, most solemn 
and impressive. We went, partly by railroad and partly 
by carriage, through lovely English roads and lanes, and 
were so busy talking we missed the way on our return, 
and did not reach Winterton until after dark. It was a 
dismal day overhead, with drizzling rain now and then, 
true North-of-England weather in September; but with 
our umbrellas and lap-robes we got through all right, 
and made our due "Pilgrimage to Epworth" neverthe- 
less. Our rig was an English two-wheeled "trap" — 
without cover, of course — with a fine gray mare, that 
never broke a trot, and my only trouble in driving was, 
that, on meeting others, I was constantly turning out to 
the right, after our American rule, whereas the English 
rule is to keep to the left. Dr. Fowler's constant in- 
junction was, "Keep to the left, man ! Keep to the left !'" 
And then he repeated the old English road caution: "If 
you keep to the left, you will be sure to be right; but 
if you keep to the right you will always be wrong !" All 
along the road, and all through England, we met these 

345 



European two-wheel "traps," driven by both gentlemen and ladies, 
Days and and four-wheelers indeed are the exception, except as 
Ways family coaches. 

Dr. Fowler's grandfather, William Fowler, an emi- 
nent archaeologist and antiquary in his day (brother of 
my grandmother, Mary Fowler Rusling), was an early 
disciple of John Wesley, and a trustee and class-leader 
of the Wesleyan Chapel in Winterton, but continued a 
member of the Established Church, and now lies buried 
near the porch of old All Saints in Winterton. On one 
of Dr. Fowler's houses in Winterton, in the main street, 
is a marble slab, erected by the Doctor, with the modest 
inscription, "Here Mr. Wesley first preached in Winter- 
ton." Evidently he stood in the doorway, and preached 
to a street congregation — the street rising slightly there. 
It is a tradition in the family that Mr. Wesley was often 
their guest, but the Fowlers did not leave the Estab- 
lished Church, three of the present generation being 
clergymen in it. The Ruslings, however, became Meth- 
odists, and emigrating to America continued in that 
communion, as a rule. There are some of that name still 
in Lincolnshire; but we could trace no relationship, and 
our own branch seemed extinct. 

Here at Winterton, and all through Lincolnshire in- 
deed, are the remains of old Roman camps in the shape 
of Roman tiles and tesselated pavements, and unques- 
tionably the Romans were here in force in ancient days. 
A century ago, Mr. William Fowler, aforesaid, became 
greatly interested in these, and in ancient stained-glass 
windows at Lincoln, York, and elsewhere, and devoted 
his latter years to making drawings and colored engrav- 
ings of them. These brought him to the notice of Sir 

346 



Walter Scott, Sir Joseph Banks, the Royal Family, WinteitOIl 
Archbishop of York, Bishops of Oxford and Ely, the 
Duke of Wellington, and others, and his published vol- 
umes of them are still reckoned among the art treasures 
of England. Dr. Fowler kindly favored us with a full 
set of these, which we prize very highly — the only set in 
America. But our sojourn at Winterton was full of 
other pleasures also — sweet recollections, fragrant remi- 
niscences, halcyon clays, and "Attic nights," as Cowley 
says — and these, or their delicious memories, will abide 
with us forever. I never did take much "stock" in gene- 
alogy or pedigree; but it is as good to be well-born as 
ill-born; and it was pleasant to know that our Kin Be- 
yond Sea were still of some "pith and moment." 

The weather at Winterton was raw and misty, and 
drizzling; not so bad as Scotland indeed, but we seldom 
had a half or quarter clay even really fine. The sun 
would rise in the morning clear and beautiful, but by 
nine o'clock it would be overcast and drizzling; by noon 
it would clear up, and the sun come out, not like our 
American sun, but more like a boiled turnip or pump- 
kin. By three after noon it would be misty and drizzling 
again. And so we often had a half dozen different kinds 
of weather the same day. The Wintertonians called it 
fine weather, and said they had had a lovely autumn. 
But they know nothing of our American autumns in 
England, and least of all of our glorious Indian summer. 
Indeed, it seemed more like our November than Sep- 
tember. 



347 




Chapter XXVIII 

E left Winterton September 19th, and 
reached Peterborough, about one hundred 
miles south, in time for lunch. This is an 
interesting old town of about twenty-five 
thousand people, with quaint houses and crooked streets, 
and a fine old Norman cathedral (four hundred and sev- 
enty-one feet long by eighty-one feet wide, and a tower 
one hundred and eighty-eight feet high), dating back 
to the eleventh century or farther. It was covered with 
scaffoldings both inside and outside, restorations going 
on; but enough was visible to indicate what a superb old 
edifice it is. Its roof is one of the best specimens of fan- 
vaulting in all England. Its spires, and pinnacles, and 
turrets are all very beautiful. But it suffered severely 
from the Puritans in Cromwell's time, who, in their mad 
iconoclasm, smashed the fine stained-glass windows, lev- 
eled the altar and screen, destroyed most of the brasses 
and monuments, and demolished the cloisters. Sad 
work all this for God-fearing and sober-minded English- 
men. But, as the French say, there were "extenuating 
circumstances." The Church had abused her rights and 
privileges, and they were trying blindly to "get even" 
with her! Here Catharine of Aragon and Mary Queen 
of Scots were both buried. Fotheringay, where Mary 
was beheaded, is only a few miles away, and she was 

348 



brought here for interment. But subsequently her re- Pet6F- 
mains, by order of James I of England, her son, were bOFOUjh 
removed to Westminster Abbey, and a tomb erected 
over them there. To the north of the west door is a 
portrait of Old Scarlett, the sexton who buried both 
Catharine and Mary, with a quaint epitaph to the old 
gravedigger. 

Next we passed by Rugby, the scene of "Tom 
Brown's School-days," a sleepy town of twelve thousand 
inhabitants, with its famous school, founded by Law- 
rence Sheriff e in 1567, with endowments that now yield 
over $35,000 a year and provide for over five hundred 
boys. The great English educator, Thomas Arnold, 
father of Matthew Arnold, was head-master here, 1828 
to 1842, and lies buried in the beautiful chapel. 

We reached Leamington the same evening, and 
stopped there overnight; a town of twenty-five thou- 
sand inhabitants, situated on the Learn, a tributary of 
the Avon, reminding one of our Saratoga. A century 
ago it was only a small village. But chalybeate, saline, 
and sulphurous springs were discovered there, that the 
doctors said were good for the stomach and liver, and 
so it grew into a famous health resort, and continues so. 
It has springs, baths, and many good hotels, and alto- 
gether is quite a charming country place. 

Only a few miles distant is Sulgrave, the ancestral 
home of the English Washingtons. The manor-house 
was built by a Lawrence Washington about 1550, and 
bears the Washington coat-of-arms. But whether this 
was our "Lawrence Washington," or George Washing- 
ton was descended from these Sulgrave Washingtons, 
has not been conclusively proved. It looks as if he was; 

349 



European and George Washington was a good deal of an English 

Days and country gentleman, much more so than a typical Amer- 

WayS ican. But we can not yield him to Sulgrave just yet. 

Next morning — a beautiful English morning — we 
took the horse-cars, and rode to Warwick, about two 
and one-half miles from Leamington. It is a continu- 
ous village all the way, through a charming bit of coun- 
try, and one would think they would have an electric 
road there. Warwick is a quaint old town, of twelve 

thousand people, 
and the seat of 
Warwick Castle; 
and a fine old cas- 
tle it is. It is one 
of the oldest and 
most picturesque 
feudal residences 
in England, and 
dates from Saxon 
times. It is still 
in a good state of 
preservation, and occupied by a descendant of Guy, the 
great Earl of Warwick, "king-maker" of England cen- 
turies ago. The oldest portion is Caesar's Tower, one 
hundred and fifty feet high, built soon after the Norman 
conquest — a huge fortress and lock-up, with gruesome 
dungeons beneath it. The Normans seem to have been 
great soldiers and engineers, as well as architects, and 
to have located their castles excellently everywhere, as 
here, so as to control and command the surrounding 
country. The old castle stands on a high hill overlook- 
ing the beautiful Avon, dominating all the landscape, 

350 




Old English 

Inn near 

Warwick. 



and the views from its towers and windows are exquisite Warwick 
beyond description. You enter by a sunken road, cut 
through the hillside, and, passing the ancient moat and 
gate, come out on a superb lawn, with stately oaks and 
beeches flanking it, and gorgeous peacocks wandering 
here and there. Inside is a fine collection of paintings, 
and ancient armor, and antique furniture, valued at a 
million of dollars or more. There is a whole roomful 
of Van Dycks, and among them Charles I on horseback, 
his best portrait extant, and of which we had seen copies 
at The Hague and elsewhere; a smooth-faced, long- 
haired, pointed-bearded, princely personage, not with- 
out some gifts and graces; but it is an insincere and 
treacherous face, and, unless all history is false, he de- 
served to have his head cut off half a dozen times over. 

There is an inlaid marble table there, deftly and curi- 
ously wrought, that is valued at forty thousand dollars 
alone. Also an ancient bed, in which Queens Anne, 
Elizabeth, Victoria, and others, have all slept. Also 
Warwick's ancient mace and Oliver Cromwell's battle- 
helmet; doubtless the one he wore at Dunbar, and at 
Naseby, and Marston Moor. Also an old arm-chair, 
made from the good ship Golden Hind, in which that 
doughty old sea-dog Sir Francis Drake first sailed 
around the globe. As an old soldier, I was permitted 
to take Warwick's mace (evidently an old battle-club) 
in my hands, and to place Cromwell's helmet on my 
head; a courtesy and honor duly appreciated, and which 
may account for my greater combativeness ever after- 
wards ! 

Warwick itself is an old, old town, having been orig- 
inally a British settlement, and afterwards occupied by 

35i 



European the Romans. Its present name is Saxon, and it is said 
Days and to have been founded in the year i. Many of its houses 
Ways retain their mediaeval features, and its old east and west 
gates are still standing, though its walls have disap- 
peared. We strolled through its picturesque, ivy-clad 
streets, and down by the old bridge over the Avon, con- 
juring up its romantic past, and peopling the old town 
and castle again with knightly men and ladies fair; but 
were quickly brought back to modern life by a flock of 
sheep and a frightened cow and calf, that a pair of sturdy 
English boys were driving to market or pasture. These 
galloped wildly about the ancient streets, helter-skelter, 
and we had to take refuge in the nearest convenient 
store or "shop," as John Bull calls it, to escape their mad 
rush. 

It is only five miles from Warwick to Kenilworth 
and Kenilworth Castle, another fine old baronial man- 
sion, but now largely in ruins. It was a great place in 
its day, but sacked and ruined in Cromwell's time, and 
never restored. We had not time to visit it, much to 
our regret; but the same afternoon we went on to 
Stratford-on-Avon, only ten or twelve miles distant, and 
took in Shakespeare, with Anne Hathaway, his home, 
grave, and other attractions. A very interesting old 
place this, a typical English town of eight or nine thou- 
sand inhabitants, but with some modern traits or appur- 
tenances. As our train ran in, on the banks of the classic 
Avon, we saw a Stratford "team" playing football, and 
they played well. A little farther on we struck the city 
"Gasworks;" lanterns and tallow-dips no longer in use 
there. At the station we found three lively cabs, but one 
of these sufficed to carry us to Shakespeare's house, a 

352 



quaint old English, half-timbered dwelling, rather better Stratford-Oil- 
than its neighbors. We sat in his ingleside, or chimney- Avon 
nook. We rested in his old arm-chair — said to be his. 
W T e saw the best portraits of him extant. We gazed 
upon his old flower-garden, but nobody is allowed to 
enter it; too tempting for souvenirs. Then we rode by 
John Harvard's house (or his mother's), father of Har- 
vard University, to beautiful old Trinity Church, and 
stood with lifted hat by Shakespeare's grave, and walked 
through the ancient graveyard, and by the side of the 
lovely Avon, where Shakespeare used to walk and fish 
and ponder. And came away better Shakespearians 
than ever. 

Of course, we were interested in Shakespeare's grave, 
and touched by his well-known epitaph : 

" Good frend for Jesus sake forbeare, 
To digg the dust enclosed heare; 
Bleste be y e man yt spares thes stones, 
And curst be hey 1 moves my bones!" 

What did he mean by this ? I venture this explanation. 
Old Trinity is a fifteenth-century edifice, and literally 
full of graves and tombs — chancel, aisles, and walls, all 
occupied. In old times, everybody that was anybody 
wanted to be buried inside a church, and when this be- 
came full it was the custom to empty the graves, and 
cast the bones indiscriminately into a near-by charnel- 
house, and consume them with quicklime. There is 
such a charnel-house now at Trinity Church, but no 
longer in use; it was walled up a century or more ago, 
because of the growing refinement and reverence of the 
age and increased sanitary knowledge. Naturally, 
23 353 



European Shakespeare did not want his body dug up, and cast into 

Days and the hideous old charnel-house, and disposed of in this 

ways way, and hence his ominous curse on the man "y t moves 

my bones !" His curse has held good all these years. 

His grave has never been opened. But is not this a 

rational explanation of it? 

Anne Hathaway's cottage lies a mile or so away by 
the road, but only about half that distance by an old 
footpath, a "short-cut" across the fields. It is in pretty 
much the same condition as when Shakespeare courted 
her here, with an old settle on which likely they both sat 
and chatted, an old bedstead, old chairs, and other old 
relics of three hundred years ago, and in front is a tiny 
garden, gay with old-fashioned flowers. 

Altogether Stratford is a beautiful spot, and makes 
the most of her great dramatist. "I am sure, sir," said a 
worthy Stratfordian, "we ought to be very much obliged 
to Mr. Shakespeare for being born here; for I don't know 
what we should have done without him." The annual 
pilgrimage there is about twenty-five thousand, of whom 
over one-fourth are Americans, and this patronage does 
much to keep the town alive. It is the heart of Warwick 
County, the heart of the heart of "Merrie England." 
And I do n't wonder it produced Will Shakespeare. It 
is just the kind of a place in which Shakespeare should 
have been born — so beautiful, so idyllic, so "Far from 
the Madding Crowd." And if the world had more such 
charming places as Stratford-on-Avon, there would be 
more William Shakespeares. 

Returning to Leamington, we went next to Oxford, 
and, I need scarcely say, fell in love with that beautiful 
old place, the great university town of England, with 

354 



twenty-three colleges and over three thousand students. Oxford 
The whole constitute Oxford University, and are super- 
vised and governed by it. Here England nurses her 
great men, and produces her great soldiers and states- 
men, philosophers, and thinkers. Cambridge also is a 
great university town, as Rugby and Eton are great 
preparatory schools; but Oxford surpasses her. As a 
seat of learning Oxford seems unrivaled, and it certainly 
is the very paradise of scholars and thinkers. Each 
college has its 
own buildings, 
grounds, and 
chapel, and many 
are gems of archi- 
tecture and good 
taste; as Christ 
Church, Trinity, 
Magdalen, Wad- 
ham, Balliol, Mer- 
ton, New College, 
Lincoln; their 

gardens, quadrangles, and towers being beautiful as a 
poet's dream or a scholar's fancy. The Magdalen 
Tower, especially, with its Addison's Walk along the 
Cherwell — there is nothing more exquisite anywhere. 
Well might Hawthorne say : "The world, surely, has not 
another place like Oxford. It is a despair to see such a 
place, or ever to leave it; for it would take a lifetime, 
and more, to comprehend and enjoy it satisfactorily." 
We strolled from college to college and library to li- 
brary—Bodleian, Radcliffe, and all — artistic, ivy-clad, 
and classic, with their quaint carvings, old oaks, elms, 

355 









m 




k 








JN 1 ' - -^SfoMHM 








f- "*&£ 






" 




' •• • 


%;,-■:. ' ' * - •■'• % 



Magdalen 

College, 

Oxford. 



European beeches, apple-trees, and cedars of Lebanon, and were 
Days and intensely interested everywhere. We had seen Harvard, 
Ways Yale, Princeton, Dickinson, and others at home, and 
enjoyed their college sights and atmosphere; but Oxford 
was founded by Alfred a thousand years ago, and seems 
in a hundred ways to be the heir of all the centuries. 
It was vacation time, and only a few of the university 
dons and students were still there. These seemed to be 
chiefly mousing about the libraries, and among them 
were several Americans. In the Bodleian we struck a 
bright young fellow from Washington, D. C, who had 
graduated at Johns Hopkins, and had then come over to 
Oxford to read a little more. He thought Oxford a 
fine place, of course; but, when questioned closely, 
doubted whether life there, on the whole, was preferable 
to our American colleges for our average Young Amer- 
icans. He said the expense was much greater, and, 
moreover, there was danger of their becoming saturated 
with English ideas and ideals, which they would have to 
abjure when they got home. Still he liked Oxford, and 
was enjoying its life and libraries immensely. 

Here, also, at Oxford, we were shown the spot where 
Ridley and Latimer were burned at the stake, because of 
their Protestant faith, by " Bloody Mary" — only three 
centuries ago. It was a bloody but heroic age. Said 
Latimer to his brother martyr, as the torch was being 
applied, "Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play 
the man; and we shall this day light such a candle, by 
God's grace, in England, as shall never be put out!" 
And they did both "play the man," and so saved old 
England to the Protestant religion and modern civil- 
ization, as it seems, forever. 

356 



Here, also, we saw the dormitory and study of John Oxford 
Wesley, when he was a fellow of Lincoln College at 
Oxford. Here is the pulpit in which he preached for 
six years as chaplain to the college; I ascended and stood 
in it. Here is the room in which his "Holy Club" met 
for meditation and prayer, daily, according to method, 
and hence they were nicknamed "Methodists" — a mere 
handful then, only a century and a half ago; but to-day 
his Methodists number nearly ten millions scattered 
around the globe. A week previously I had visited his 
birthplace at Epworth, Lincolnshire. The next week 
I saw the memorial tablet to John and Charles Wesley 
in Westminster Abbey, among England's greatest 
worthies, with John's three great sayings : "The best of 
all is, God is with us;" "The world is my parish;" "God 
buries his workmen, but carries on his work." A week 
afterwards I stood by his modest grave, back of City 
Road Chapel, London, with uplifted hat and bowed 
head, and reverenced him more than ever. A truly great 
man was John Wesley, a great lover of his country and 
his kind; one of God Almighty's "picked men," whose 
name and fame will broaden with the centuries and en- 
dure forever. 

Oxford itself is a town, of some fifty thousand inhab- 
itants, situated at the junction of the Thames and Cher- 
well, with an amphitheater of gentle hills surrounding 
it, and is the county-town of Oxfordshire. It dates back 
to the year 900, and strikes one as superlatively an old 
college town, and not much else. Its citizens are proud 
of the great university, and the university men feel 
kindly toward the old city. The old riots of "Town and 
Gown" are practically a thing of the past, abolished by 

357 



European modern athletics absorbing the surplus energy of the 
Days and students. The Thames is only a small river at Oxford, 
Ways but it affords good rowing grounds, which the students 
improve to the utmost. 

From Oxford we hastened on to London, and were 
glad to get back to that great metropolis once more. 
The ride from Oxford is but an hour or so, and the 
whole route, down the valley of the Thames, abounds in 
interest and beauty. We passed Windsor en route, but 
returned there afterwards. 



358 




Chapter XXIX 

|IRST and last, we were a fortnight in Lon- London 
don, and saw a good deal of it. It is surely 
a great city, the greatest on the earth, or 
that ever was on the earth. It is the me- 
tropolis of England, and the center of the British Em- 
pire. It extends fifteen miles east and west, by ten miles 
north and south, and is still growing steadily and rapidly. 
With its suburbs, it embraces six millions of people, or 
it is about twice the size of Greater New York; and un- 
questionably it is the richest city on the globe, or that 
ever was on the globe. This is only a general way of 
describing London. But it will do for a preface. 

Its name is from the Latin Londinium, as Tacitus 
calls it, and this is only a Romanizing of the ancient 
British name, Llyn or Lin, a "pool," and din or dun, 
which means a "hill," or "hill-fortress." The "pool" was 
the widening of the Thames here, where it makes a bend 
or sweep, and affords a good place for docks and ship- 
ping. The "dun" or the hill was likely the high ground 
by Ludgate Hill, where St. Paul's now stands, or Corn- 
hill near the Mansion House and Bank of England, or 
probably both. In the days of the ancient Britons Lon- 
don was probably only a collection of rude huts, on these 
two hills, encompassed by a rampart and water-ditch, 
while the rest was woods and marshes. 

359 



European When the Romans arrived there, early in the Chris- 

DayS and tian era or somewhat before, London rapidly grew into 
Ways importance. Those old masters of the arts of war and 
trade soon made it a resort of merchants and mariners, 
the Thames affording a ready access to the sea. But it 
was never raised to the dignity of a municipium, like St. 
Albans, the most important city in Southern England 
during the Roman period, nor regarded as the capital of 
Roman Britain, like York. Roman relics are often found 
in digging for London foundations now, or in dredging 
in the Thames, and fragments of the old Roman walls 
are still discernible. They seem to have been nine or 
ten feet thick by twenty feet high, and to have consisted 
of a core of rubble, with facings of stone and brick, like 
the old city walls down in Italy and elsewhere on the 
Continent. Wherever Rome went she carried her build- 
ing instinct and skill, and left evidences of her might and 
power. It must have been a great thing to be a Roman 
in those days. 

These old walls were built by Constantine the Great 
in the fourth century, and their gates were Newgate, 
Bishopsgate, Ludgate, Aldgate, Billingsgate, etc. — 
names still commemorated in streets and localities there. 
Roman London was about a mile long by half a mile 
wide, from the Tower to Ludgate, and from the Thames 
to London wall. Its remains are still found, at about 
eighteen feet below the present surface at Cheapside 
and the Bank. The Saxons, who followed the Romans, 
either destroyed their great works, or allowed them to 
fall into decay — walls, roads, bridges, villas, baths, tem- 
ples, and statuary — as they did all over England. It 
is amazing how quickly the great Roman civilization, 

360 



that had endured for four and a half centuries, disin- London 
tegrated and fell to pieces after the Romans left. How 
could it have happened that way, when Rome was a 
blessing and benediction to the land, far surpassing what 
England had ever seen before? But King Alfred, great 
and wise ruler that he was — far in advance of his age 
and time — reformed London, and rebuilt her walls 
(A. D. 886), as a rampart against the piratical Danes, 
and, though they often attacked, they never took it 
afterwards. Then came William the Conqueror, who 
gave London a charter, and engaged to maintain the 
rights and privileges of its citizens, but at the same 
time he erected the White Tower to overawe them. 
His charter read: "William king greets William bishop 
and Gosfrith portreeve, and all the burghers within 
London, French and English, friendly; and I do you 
to wit that I will, that ye be all lawworthy. And I will 
that every child be his father's heir after his father's 
day, and I will not endure that any man offer any wrong 
to you. God keep you." At this time, about A. D. 
1066, London probably contained about thirty or forty 
thousand inhabitants, and was a great city for its day. 
But what would William and his Normans think of 
London now? 

I think the first impression London gives one is that 
of hugeness, vastness, multitudinousness; and this grows 
upon you. Its streets are mostly narrow, like old New 
York, Philadelphia, and Boston. Its buildings are not 
lofty, seldom exceeding four or five stories; but the rush 
and roar of its omnibuses, cabs, carriages, wagons, 
and people, crowding and choking its multitudes of 
streets and alleys, must be seen to be appreciated. In 

361 



European the heart of the city "street-blocks" are of constant 
Days and occurrence, long lines of vehicles choking the thorough- 
WayS fares to a standstill; and in many places it seems worth 
a man's life to cross a street, as in the Strand, or Cheap- 
side, or Piccadilly. "Places of Refuge" are provided 
in the middle of the worst streets, a foot or so above 
the ordinary level, and here aged and timid persons 
rush and wait until the traffic rolls by or a courteous 
policeman escorts them safely across. London has also 
underground railroads and electric tramways; but these 
are chiefly for her suburbs, believing her streets too 
narrow and her traffic too great for surface roads. Her 
cabs are cheap and excellent. But the omnibus pre- 
dominates everywhere and is the chief feature of London 
streets; a huge double-decker, with two rows of seats 
on top, at right angles with the vehicle, and these top 
seats are always full. Here men read, smoke, talk, and 
discuss the news of the day; and sensible women, also, 
are much in evidence. Londoners do not seem to mind 
the drizzle and rain that occur every day here, nearly, 
though water-proof lap-robes are provided against the 
worst days. They use umbrellas also somewhat, of 
course, but provide these themselves. 

It is a fine thing to climb to the top of one of these 
great omnibuses, and go sailing through the streets 
of London. There is no better place to study English 
life and character, and to see great London. We rode 
on them for miles some days, changing from one line 
to another, and always saw something new and inter- 
esting. As a rule, the horses are first-class, and the 
drivers obliging and intelligent. I made it my busi- 
ness to talk with the drivers everywhere, and met many 

362 



a "Sam Weller," bright and chipper as the day is long. London 
And "Mr. Pickwick" was there, too, occasionally, 
though not so much in evidence. 

Thus we navigated the Strand, Fleet Street, Cheap- 
side, Poultry, Piccadilly, Pall Mall, Oxford Street, 
High Holborn, Tottenham Court Road, Bedford Street, 
Montague Street, Kensington Street, Victoria Street, 
and saw Whitehall, the Horse Guards, Charing Cross, 
Trafalgar Square, Nelson's Monument, Landseers 
Lions, the Na- 
t i o n a 1 Gallery, 
W e 1 1 i n g t o n's 
Monument, the 
Royal Exchange, 
the Law Courts, 
the old Bailey, 
and Newgate. We 
went to Hyde 
Park, and saw 
Rotten Row, with 
all "the pride, 

pomp, and circumstance" of its wealth, rank, and 
fashion. We visited Buckingham Palace and the Albert 
Memorial, one of the finest monuments in all Europe, 
though in the procession of great men of all ages 
chiseled upon it no American appears, not even George 
Washington or Abraham Lincoln. We went to the 
Houses of Parliament (do n't compare with our Capitol 
at Washington), and heard "Big Ben" striking the 
hours for all London; and the Thames Embankment, 
with its Egyptian obelisk, twin to ours in New York 
at Central Park. We crossed Waterloo Bridge and re- 

363 



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gjjM 






l WM EH 

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The Strand, 
London. 



European 

Days and 

Ways 



turned over old London Bridge, choked with traffic; 
probably on the site of the original Roman Bridge here. 
We visited the Tower of London, with its wonderful 
collection of ancient arms and armor, both for men 
and horses — the finest in Europe — and saw the Brit- 
ish crowns and jewels and royal regalia, and talked 
with the yeomen of the guard, or "Beef-eaters." We 
explored Whitechapel and the East End, with its 
misery and crimes, though with some redeeming 

Homes and 
schools, that 
promise much for 
the future. We 
went to the Na- 
t i o n a 1 Gallery, 
the South Ken- 
sington Museum, 
and the British 
Museum — the 
second greatest 
library in the 
world — and stud- 




houses of 
Parliament, 
West- 
minster. 



ied the Elgin Marbles, the Egyptian, Assyrian, and 
American Galleries, and saw the genuine signatures 
of England's kings and queens, and of George 
Washington and others, on old letters and proclama- 
tions. At the British Museum they told us they had 
a copy of every modern book printed, and verified it 
by producing two of my own. We went to Madame 
Tussaud's, and saw her wonderful collection of wax- 
figures of the great men and women of many centuries 
and celebrated characters of our own times. We vis- 

364 



ited the ancient Guild Hall or old City Hall of London, London 
with its curious old statues of Gog and Magog; the 
Bank of England, with its vast treasures and quaint old 
watchmen, where eleven streets come together, with 
three thousand omnibuses and over one million people 
passing daily, with the equestrian statue of Wellington 
standing guard over all; Lincoln's Inn Fields, Crosby 
Hall, Dickens's "Old Curiosity Shop" (now a waste- 
paper store), the Mansion House or mayor's residence, 
City Road Chapel, 
Smithfield Mar- 
ket, where John 
Rogers "and other 
servants of God 
suffered death by 
fire for the faith 
of Christ, in the 

years 1555-56-57-" 
How familiar all 
these names and 
places seemed. We 
had read about 
them all our lives. 
But here they were, present to the bodily senses, and The Royal 
London seemed not a foreign land, but like home. AND THE 

And then, when Sunday came, we worshiped in bank of 
St. Paul's in the morning, with a goodly congregation England. 
of devout souls; in Westminster Abbey in the after- 
noon, with a still larger congregation, a good sermon, 
and exquisite music; and heard Hugh Price Hughes 
at St. James Hall in the evening — London's greatest 
preacher, not unlike Henry Ward Beecher, but more 

365 




European religious — with an audience that crowded the hall to 
Days and the doors, and more. Hundreds were turned away, and 
Ways I myself only succeeded in getting in by pleading my 
privilege as an American. That same afternoon, on my 
way home from the Abbey, I encountered a great mass- 
meeting in Trafalgar Square, where fifty thousand 
Englishmen were assembled to discuss the South Afri- 
can question, and saw the London police handle it so 
skillfully and firmly that there was no disorder or vio- 
lence, though the meeting was called by the peace 
advocates and captured by the war advocates. When- 
ever the peace orators attempted to speak, the crowd 
sang them down with "God Save the Queen," "Rule 
Britannia," "Sherman marching through Georgia," and 
other patriotic songs; but it was all good-natured, and 
jolly even. And England was then on the verge of 
the Boer War, too, and her very atmosphere electric 
with patriotism and battle. 

The police were certainly a fine body of men, both 
on foot and mounted, and I never saw a crowd han- 
dled better. When the meeting ended, they formed 
a wedge, and putting the speakers in the middle 
marched them quickly out of the crowd and into a 
neighboring hotel, whence they disappeared to their 
several homes. The London police, indeed, are an 
honor and a credit to the city. One finds them every- 
where, a body of bright and stalwart men, of more than 
ordinary intelligence, and eager to serve and oblige 
the passing traveler. We never hesitated to call upon 
them for any information or assistance needed, and 
never failed to get it. 

St. Paul's is a noble Romanesque edifice, with a 

3 66 



magnificent dome, and reminds one of St. Peter's at London — 
Rome, though, of course, inferior. It is the fourth St. Paul's 
largest church in the world, being surpassed only by 
St. Peter's at Rome, the cathedral of Seville, and the 
cathedral of Milan. Its location is not good, being so 
hemmed in by narrow streets and houses that its colossal 
proportions can not be realized. If it had any such 
superb site as St. Peter's, or noble square as the Duomo 
at Milan, it would appear much grander. The best view 
of it is from the Thames, below Blackfriars Bridge, 
though it looms lofty and imposing from all approaches 
to London. It is in the form of a Latin cross, and is five 
hundred feet long by one hundred and eighteen broad, 
with a transept two hundred and fifty feet wide and a 
dome rising three hundred and sixty-four feet from the 
pavement to the top of the cross. It was begun in 1675, 
and completed in 1710, by Sir Christopher Wren, who 
lies buried here, with his memorable epitaph, "If you 
would see my monument, look around you." It cost 
nearly $4,000,000, and was paid for chiefly by a tax on 
coal. 

Its site has had a curious history. It is supposed 
an old pagan, temple was here originally, judging from 
the cinerary urns and other vessels discovered in dig- 
ging the foundation for St. Paul's. A Christian Church 
followed this in early Roman days; but this was demol- 
ished by the pagan Saxons when the Romans retired. 
Ethelbert, King of Kent, is said to have restored this 
about 610. This church was burned down in 961, but 
rebuilt within a year. It was destroyed by fire again 
in 1087, but a new church was at once begun, though 
not finished for two hundred years. This church, old 

3fy 



European St. Paul's, was five hundred and ninety feet long, nearly 
Days and one hundred feet larger than the present cathedral, and 
Ways in 131 5 was equipped with a modern spire covered 
with lead, five hundred and twenty feet high — eight feet 
higher than the cathedral at Cologne. This spire was 
struck by lightning in 1445, but not restored until 1561, 
when it fell a prey to the flames, the church also being 
badly damaged by this fire. This seems to have been 
the history of all the old churches abroad — to have been 
burned down and built up again half a dozen times over. 
The underground parts of the ruined church were used 
as workshops and wine-cellars for a long while. The 
nave was turned into a public promenade — the once 
famous "Paul's Walk." The stones were taken to build 
Somerset House, and other public and private edifices. 
Then came Charles I, who resolved on its restoration, 
but the Civil War stopped this. And then came the 
great fire of 1666, which destroyed one-third of London, 
and wiped the old church out of existence. Hard by 
once stood the celebrated Cross of St. Paul ("Powle's 
Cross"), where sermons were preached, papal bulls pro- 
mulgated, heretics made to recant or burn, and witches 
to confess, and where the pope's condemnation of Luther 
was proclaimed in the presence of Cardinal Wolsey. 
The platform on which this cross stood was discovered 
in 1879, at a depth of about six feet, when they came 
to lay out the pretty little garden on the northeast side 
of the present cathedral. 

Inside, St. Paul's is crowded with tombs and monu- 
ments, chiefly of military and naval personages, more 
or less eminent. Wellington is there, as he should be, 
and Nelson, and Rodney, and Napier, and Gordon, and 

368 



Picton, and Sir John Moore; but Cornwallis, Howe, and London — 
a lot of other nobodies also. So, also, Dr. Samuel John- Westminster 
son is there, and Bishop Heber, and Dean Milman, and Abbey 
John Howard, and Sir William Jones — not unworthy 
of the place. In the crypt is the hearse used at Wel- 
lington's funeral, cast from guns captured in his battles, 
and also memorial slabs of famous artists and others; 
such as John Rennie, builder of the great Waterloo 
Bridge; Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Edwin Landseer, Sir 
Astley Cooper, Sir Christopher Wren and wife, Sir 
Bartle Frere, and Benjamin West, the great American 
painter a century ago, the only American yet here. St. 
Paul's is a good place to visit. One is always impressed 
with its grandeur and sublimity; and you come away 
with a deep sense of England's greatness and majesty. 
Westminster Abbey, or "the Abbey," as Londoners 
call it for short, is a venerable pile on the left bank 
of the Thames, on a spot once overgrown with thorns 
and surrounded by water, and hence called "Thorny 
Isle." There was an old church here so long ago as 
6 1 6, in honor of St. Peter, with a Benedictine mon- 
astery connected with it, to the west of the Cistercian 
Abbey of St. Mary of the Graces (Eastminster), and 
so the whole came to be called Westminster Abbey. 
This church was destroyed by the pagan Danes, but re- 
erected by King Edgar in 985. The whole Abbey, 
however, may be ascribed to Edward the Confessor 
about 1050. In the latter half of the thirteenth century 
it was entirely rebuilt by Henry III and Edward I, and 
it stands now substantially as then, though there have 
been alterations and additions since. Like St. Paul's, 
it is in the form of a Latin cross, and chiefly in the 
24 369 



European perpendicular and early English styles, with Norman 
Days and touches here and there. It is five hundred and thirteen 
Ways feet long by two hundred feet broad, and one hundred 
and two feet high, with towers two hundred and twenty- 
five feet high. It seems a great deal older than St. 
Paul's, and impresses one every way. With its royal 

burial vaults and multitude 
of tombs and monuments 
to celebrated men, it is not 
unreasonably regarded by 
Englishmen as their na- 
tional Walhalla or Temple 
of Fame, and interment 
within its ancient walls is 
held to be the highest honor 
England can bestow. They 
show you the old stone 
chair here, on which the 
kings and queens of Eng- 
land have been crowned, 
and of Scotland before 
them, back to the time 
"whereof the memory of 
man runneth not to the 
contrary," and the tombs of kings, queens, princes, and 
nobles, without end; as Edward I, Henry VII, Charles 
II, William III, George II, Eleanor, Elizabeth, Mary, 
Anne, Mary Queen of Scots, the Duke of Bucking- 
ham, Duke of Richmond, and Earl of Exeter. Also, 
monuments of Pitt, Peel, Palmerston, Beaconsfield, 
Warren Hastings, Sir Isaac Newton, Lord Mansfield, 
Charles Darwin, General Wolfe, Sir James Outram, 

37o 







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-— — - ' nil 


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West- 
minster 
Abbey. 



General Havelock, Macaulay, John and Charles Wesley, London — 
and a host of others, who have made England what she National 
is, and keep her so to-day. Over in the "Poets' Corner" Gallery 
are tombs or tablets to Shakespeare, Milton, Chaucer, 
Spenser, Ben Jonson ("O rare Ben Jonson!"), Gold- 
smith, Campbell, Southey, Browning, Tennyson, and 
others, and also one to our own Longfellow. It would 
seem they might have included Bryant and Whittier 
also. Of course, there is a great multitude of nobodies 
here, also, as in St. Paul's; and it would be a good thing 
to clean out many of the tombs and monuments, as 
undeserved or in bad taste. But the spaciousness and 
age of the old Abbey produce a profound impression 
upon you, and you walk cautiously and softly about, 
as if fearful of disturbing the reverence and silence of 
the place. As Washington Irving said, "You feel that 
you are surrounded by the great men of past times, 
who have filled history with their deeds and the earth 
with their renown." One of these days, America also 
will have her Pantheon or Westminster Abbey, and 
will find names to record there not unworthy of the 
Republic. 

The National Gallery on Trafalgar Square is a great 
building, but without much architectural merit. It 
contains many fine pictures from all the schools, par- 
ticularly some Raphaels, Rembrandts, Vandycks, and 
Veroneses, that it would be hard to surpass anywhere. 
Its Reynoldses, Gainsboroughs, Hogarths, and Land- 
seers are not equaled elsewhere, and there is a robust- 
ness, naturalness, and common sense about English art 
characteristic of the race. Her artists may lack the 
fineness and subtlety of other schools; but they know 

37* 



European British character and British landscapes, and average 
Days and human nature, and paint all excellently well. One day 
Ways while there (September 6th) we were treated to a ter- 
rific thunder and lightning storm, worthy of New York, 
or worse. The sky grew yellow and then black, and 
the rain came down in torrents. The whole city seemed 
enveloped in a true London mist or fog. The street 
and shop lamps were lighted at mid-day, and the ushers 
drove us all out of the galleries into the entrance, lest 
we might get lost there, or possibly something else 
get lost. 

And out of all that we thus saw in and about London 
we gained the impression of great London — great in 
population, great in wealth, great in power, great in art 
and science and literature, great in intelligence and re- 
ligion, the greatest product and proudest monument of 
civilization and Christianity to-day upon the earth, or 
that was ever upon the earth. And London was never 
more prosperous and potent than to-day; and English- 
men made and keep her so; for London is essentially an 
English city. Other nationalities there are, of course — 
Scotch, Irish, French, German, etc. — but the English 
overwhelmingly predominates. What an honor and a 
glory London is to the Anglo-Saxon race ! It has taken 
two thousand years to do it. But they have done it; 
and there she stands, on the banks of the Thames she 
loves, and in the heart of England she reveres. One 
of these days New York will surpass her. It is written 
in the book of fate, predestined by our location and peo- 
ple; but we may go to London and learn many things 
yet, if we will; and it is only the inquiring and the 
teachable than can become truly great and wise. 

?>72 



London, it is but right to say, keeps the Sabbath London — 
and goes to Church on Sunday, and is not ashamed The Sabbath 
of it. Her multitudinous shops are all closed on that 
day, her vast business suspended, and nothing is open 
but her restaurants and tobacco-shops. Her patron 
saint is St. Paul, carved upon her city-seal, and her 
great cathedral named after him; and her city motto, 
blazoned over her Guild Hall and other public build- 
ings is "Domine, dirige nos" (O Lord, direct us!") 
So, at Oxford, 
the chief motto is, 
"Dominus illu- 
minatio me a;" 
and you will see 
the same or like 
mottoes all over 
London and Eng- 
land. Evidently 
they are a rev- 
erent and God- 
fearing race over 

there, as the French are only a pleasure-loving race, The Thames 
and this, more than all else, has made England what 
she is, and keeps her so to-day. 

London and New York are the two largest cities in 
the world — the one having about six million inhab- 
itants and the other about three million five hundred 
thousand — each being the greatest seaport in its own 
half of the world. London, with six million people, 
spends about $12,000,000 a year on popular education. 
New York, with three million five hundred thousand, 
spends about $15,000,000. London, with six million 

373 




Richmond 
Bridge. 



European inhabitants, spends about $8,000,000 a year for police 
Days and service, while New York, with three million five hun- 
WayS dred thousand, spends about $12,000,000. For her 
$8,000,000 a year London gets about sixteen thousand 
policemen, while New York for her $12,000,000 gets 
only about eight thousand. The total cost of governing 
London is about $70,000,000 a year, while the total 
cost of governing New York is about $100,000,000 a 
year. In other words, London government costs about 
$12 a head, while New York government costs about 
$28 a head. How much of this goes to the people, 
and how much to Tammany Hall, perhaps Mr. Croker 
could explain. But the comparison is suggestive, and 
Brother Jonathan should bestir himself. 



374 




Chapter XXX 

JjF course, while in London, we took a day LondOII- 
off and ran down to Windsor, the home of Windsor 
England's kings and queens for many cen- 
turies now. It is only twenty-one miles 
from London, up the valley of the Thames, and nothing 
could be more lovely than the picturesque ride there. 
The town itself has only about twenty thousand people, 
is the shire town of old Berkshire; but the castle and 
royal residence are the chief things. They stand on a 
little eminence overlooking the valley of the Thames, 
and there was a stronghold here no doubt in old Roman 
or Saxon days. But the castle as it now appears was 
first erected by William the Conqueror, and rebuilt by 
Henry III and Edward III, about 1300. Afterwards, 
George IV restored it, and then Victoria still further 
restored and enlarged it, at a cost of nearly $5,000,000, 
making it one of the most stately and magnificent royal 
residences in the world. 

There is the Round Tower, one hundred and two 
by ninety-five feet, on a circular mound one hundred 
and twenty-five feet in diameter by forty-two feet high, 
of great antiquity. The castle and royal residence 
proper, St. George's Chapel, the Albert Chapelj the 
barracks for the troops, are all on an extended scale, as 
befits England. The tower was formerly used only as 

375 



European a keep or prison, but is now a museum, with a huge bell 
Days and in it brought from Sebastopol. The state apartments 
Ways are full of rare and beautiful objects, as well as paint- 
ings, portraits, and tapestries; but the private apart- 
ments were closed, the queen being still absent at Bal- 
moral. She ought to have been at Windsor, of course, 
to greet us; but the best we could do was to leave our 
compliments and kind wishes for her. We wandered 
from room to room, and greatly enjoyed the vistas 
from the terrace, over the exquisite valley of the Thames, 
with its far-stretching landscapes, and after seeing and 
realizing all here, one does not wonder that the kings 
and queens of England chose Windsor for their royal 
residence. How solid and substantial it all seems, yet 
stately and romantic, old England in epitome! 

St. George's Chapel ranks next to Westminster 
Abbey as a royal mausoleum, though no king was buried 
here until Edward IV. He left directions in his will 
for a splendid tomb, with an effigy of himself in silver 
over it. But nothing now remains of this, except part 
of the iron grille surrounding it, said to be one of the 
most skillful and elaborate pieces of wrought-iron work 
in existence. Next, Henry VIII was buried here, 
alongside of Jane Seymour, and he directed that a mag- 
nificent bronze and marble tomb should be erected over 
their remains. But the tomb was never completed, 
and its metal work was melted down in Cromwell's 
time and cast into cannon. Charles I and other royal 
personages are also buried here, and the choir con- 
tains the stalls of the Knights of the Garter, with their 
historic coats-of-arms and banners. The chapel itself 
is one of the finest pieces of perpendicular architecture 

376 



in England, and is crowded with tombs and memorial London — 
tablets, like St. Paul's and Westminster Abbey, of dis- Windsor 
tinguished persons, both civil and military. 

The Albert Memorial Chapel was built originally 
by Henry III, but altered and enlarged by Henry VII. 
While still unfinished, Henry VIII gave it to Cardinal 
Wolsey, and for a long time it was known as "Wolsey's 
tomb-house." The princely Wolsey engaged a dis- 
tinguished Florentine sculptor to make him a splendid 
and costly tomb 
of black marble 
and gilt bronze, 
with his recum- 
b e n t effigy o n 
top, after the 
fashion of his 
time. But in 
Cromwell's time 
the bronze work 
was torn off and 
melted down into 
cannon— put to better use by the Commonwealth — and St - George's 
in 1 80^ the black marble sarcophagus was moved from „f APEL ' 

J r o Windsor. 

Windsor and placed in St. Paul's, as a tomb for Lord 
Nelson, a more worthy Englishman. In recent times, 
since the death of Prince Albert, the whole chapel has 
been restored, and lined with rich marbles and reliefs, 
and dedicated to his memory; though, singularly, he 
is not buried here, nor under the magnificent Albert 
Memorial in London, but at Frogmore, a quiet little 
lodge in the Home Park, a mile or so from the castle. 
Here, however, repose George III, George IV, William 

377 




European IV, and other royal personages. A subterranean passage 
Days and leads from St. George's Chapel to the Royal Tomb- 
WayS house under the Albert Chapel, but the public are not 
permitted there. They will allow you to look through 
the grated doors and windows, and feast your eyes on 
dead royalty and their memorials in this way, but not 
otherwise. We tried all sorts of arguments and ''tips" 
to gain admission, but the doorkeepers were truly Eng- 
lish and inexorable. 

The Royal Forest, or Great Park at Windsor, used 
to contain sixty thousand acres, but is now reduced to 
about two thousand. It abounds with magnificent elms 
and oaks, and contains thousands of fallow deer. Here 
are beautiful drives and lakes, and England certainly 
knows how to take care of her royal family, and seems 
not unwilling to do so. 

There were only a few companies of household 
troops on duty at Windsor when we were there. We 
saw them at guard mount and on dress parade, and they 
were certainly all that could be desired, both as officers 
and soldiers. They much surpassed any soldiers we saw 
on the Continent, and were only to be compared with 
our own American army. West Point is certainly equal 
to Sandhurst and Woolwich, and the American private 
soldier is in no respect inferior to "Tommy Atkins." 
We trust they will never have to cross swords with each 
other; but if they do, let John Bull beware! 

Another day we ran down to Canterbury, through 
the heart of Middlesex and Kent, past Rochester, Chat- 
ham, and Faversham. It was a lovely September day, 
neither too hot nor too cold, but just nice; and Kent 
never appeared to better advantage for that time of the 

378 



year. It seemed all one vast hop-field, with hop-pickers, Canterbury 
both men and women, everywhere, and everybody mak- 
ing merry. These hop-pickers come down largely from 
London every year, for the hop season, and hop-picking 
makes a jolly "outing" for them. Apple-orchards and 
cherry-trees also abounded, and one could well believe 
there would be worse things than picking and eating 
"cherries in Kent in June." The whole country seemed 
fruitful and fertile beyond anything we had yet seen in 
England, and every field seemed cultivated as with a 
fine-toothed comb. There was a general air of happi- 
ness and prosperity everywhere, and ruddy-faced people 
and chubby-cheeked boys and girls were in plentiful evi- 
dence. Our journey down was not as romantic as that 
of the pilgrims from the Tabard Inn in Southwark in 
1390, or thereabouts, as reported by Geoffrey Chaucer 
in his celebrated "Canterbury Tales;" but it was speedier, 
and in many respects more comfortable and delightful. 
There were "nine and twenty" of Chaucer's pilgrims, 
and they went on horseback, sometimes at a canter (de- 
rived from "Canterbury" pilgrimages), bound for the 
shrine of St. Thomas a Becket, and it took them several 
days and nights to cover the distance — about sixty miles. 
There were only four of us; but we went by railroad and 
made the whole pilgrimage down and back in a single 
day easily. 

Canterbury itself is not much of a town, only about 
twenty-five thousand inhabitants, but it is the ecclesi- 
astical metropolis of all England, and well worth a visit. 
The Archbishop of Canterbury is primate of all England,, 
and, while he has an official residence in London (Lam- 
beth Palace), his diocese and legal residence are at Can- 

379 



European terbury. He is a great personage in England, taking 
Days and precedence next to the king, ahead of all the princes, 
Ways dukes, and lords. The great bell at Canterbury tolls 
only when he or the king dies, and for nobody else. The 
little river Stour runs through the town in two branches, 
neither of much importance. Canterbury contains many 
quaint old houses and churches, and has still a Falstafr" 
Inn, which Sir John Falstaff used to frequent in Shake- 
speare's time, and the remains of the Chequers Inn, the 
popular hostelry of the pilgrims in Chaucer's day. In 
going from the railroad station to the cathedral we 
passed old St. Margaret's Church, a curious old struc- 
ture, quaint and venerable; but a passing Canterburian 
could not tell us its age nor name even. Canterbury was 
one of the early military stations on the old Roman road 
from Dover to London (Watling Street), and there is a 
little church just outside of the city, called St. Martin's, 
that is believed to be the "Mother Church of England." 
Parts of its walls contain old Roman brick, and an old 
stone coffin is shown there, that is said to be that of 
Queen Bertha, who lived in pre-Saxon days. It is cer- 
tain that in the year 597 St. Augustine arrived here from 
Rome itself, with a band of Christian priests, vowed to 
convert heathen England, and soon afterwards was ap- 
pointed archbishop of all England by King Ethelbert. 
It is said that there was a Christian church already here, 
built in old Roman days, and afterwards used as a pagan 
temple, and that this was presented by Ethelbert, along 
with his palace, to St. Augustine, who turned them into 
a cathedral and monastery. This old cathedral was 
burned down several times and rebuilt, and was pillaged 
by the Danes, and one of the Archbishops of Canterbury 

380 



was carried off and murdered by them about the year Canter- 
iooo. At the time of the Norman conquest it had almost bury — 
entirely disappeared; but Archbishop Lanfranc and his The 
successors took hold, with true Norman building in- Cathedral 
stinct, and in 1130 completed a new cathedral in mag- 
nificent style. Parts of this still remain; but there have 
been changes and additions since. The great central 
tower, called the Bell Harry Tower, one of the finest 
in all England, and with a magnificent bell in it, was not 
built until 1495, 
and the northwest 
tower is also mod- 
ern. The general 
style of the su- 
perb old cathedral 
is Norman and 
perpendicular, 
and its dimen- 
sions are, total 
length five hun- 
dred and four- 
teen feet, breadth seventy-one feet, height of nave eighty Canterbury 
feet, central tower two hundred and thirty-five feet, and 
west towers one hundred and fifty-two feet. The gen- 
eral effect is that of beauty, grandeur, and sublimity, 
and there is no cathedral we saw in rural England that 
impresses one more. 

The crypt is a part of the early Norman cathedral, 
and its pillars are believed to have belonged to the old 
Roman church on this site. It is very spacious, and in 
1 561 Queen Elizabeth granted its use to the French and 
Flemish refugees, who fled to England from the Tnqui- 

381 



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European sition, and they carried on their silk manufactories here 
Days and in this old crypt long afterwards. A part of it is still 
Ways occupied by their descendants as a French Protestant 
Church, and it could not be put to a better use. 

The cloisters are very beautiful, and are still in good 
preservation. The Chapter House has a ceiling paneled 
in Irish oak, and was being restored and beautified when 
we were there, and is still in constant use. 

The old monastery or abbey adjoining has fallen into 
decay, and only some arches and windows and crumbling 
walls remain to attest its former beauty and grandeur. 
These, however, are very stately and artistic, and it seems 
a pity that such an edifice as this must have been, should 
be allowed to fall thus into ruins. 

The windows of the cathedral are among the hand- 
somest in England, and much of their stained glass dates 
back to the thirteenth century, or even earlier. One of 
these represents the life and death of St. Thomas a 
Becket, and others depict his supposed miracles. Still 
others contain figures of Edward IV and other royal 
personages, and all are very interesting and beautiful. 

The interior of the cathedral is crowded with monu- 
ments and tombs, but chiefly those of great ecclesiastics 
only, such as archbishops. Henry IV is the only king 
buried here. But Edward the Black Prince lies here, 
with his handsome bronze effigy on his tomb, while 
above hang his surcoat, gauntlets, helmet, shield and 
battle-flag, with the dust of centuries upon them. He 
was a doughty warrior in his time, for the faith of Christ 
and the fame of England, and he could not have a fitter 
resting-place than in historic old Canterbury. 

Here in Canterbury, also, is the tomb of the famous 

382 



Thomas a Becket, who was canonized soon after his Canter- 
death, and became the most popular of all English saints, bury — 
It was, indeed, his fame as St. Thomas that made Can- BeGKOt 
terbury the greatest of English cathedrals for several 
centuries. He was a great Englishman in his time — 
born 1118. His father was a London merchant, and he 
received the best education of his day, both in England 
and France. He never became a scholar, like Wolsey, 
nor even much of a theologian; but his intellect was keen 
and his manners captivating. He first read law, then 
turned soldier, and fought with ability and courage. He 
became Lord Chancellor and then Archbishop of Eng- 
land; must have been a man of parts and valor. When 
made archbishop in 1162, one of his contemporaries 
said: "The king [Henry II] had worked a miracle, in 
having that day turned a layman into an archbishop, and 
a soldier into a saint.'' After he became archbishop and 
primate of all England — head of the English Church — 
he broke with Henry, having nothing more to get from 
him, and sided with the pope in his great struggle for 
supremacy in England, as on the Continent. He became 
a devout ecclesiastic — "wore haircloth next his skin, fed 
on roots, drank nauseous water, and daily washed the 
feet of thirteen beggars." The king resolved to conquer 
or ruin him, and so summoned him before a great Coun- 
cil to account for 44,000 marks alleged to have been mis- 
appropriated by him while chancellor. "For what hap- 
pened before my consecration," said Becket haughtily, 
"I ought not to answer, nor will I. Know, moreover, 
that ye are my children in God. Neither law nor reason 
allows you to judge your father. I refer my quarrel to 
the pope. To him I appeal, and, under the protection of 

383 



European the Catholic Church and the Apostolic See, depart." 
Days and He fled to France, and from that safe refuge anathe- 
WayS matized Henry and his English enemies. The pope was 
a warm friend of Becket, of course, but did not want to 
break openly with Henry, and it was not until the Arch- 
bishop of York, in defiance of a papal bull, had usurped 
the functions of Becket, by officiating at the coronation 
of Henry's son, that he took sides against the king. 
Henry now began to tremble, and Becket was invited to 
return, and it was agreed that the king should discharge 
his debts and pay the expenses of his journey. Becket 
came back; but the king broke his engagements, of 
course. Becket, in retaliation, excommunicated the 
Archbishop of York and the Bishops of London and 
Salisbury, who had assisted him in the coronation of the 
king's son. Here was a pretty "to-do" surely. The 
terrified prelates fled to Henry, who, on hearing their 
tale and an account of Becket's splendid reception at 
Canterbury on his return thither, bitterly exclaimed : "Of 
the cowards who eat my bread, is there not one who will 
free me from this turbulent priest?" Four of his knights 
heard him, and unsolicited they resolved to avenge their 
liege lord. They went to Canterbury of their own ac- 
cord, and finding Becket threatened him with death if 
he did not absolve the excommunicated bishops. "In 
vain you threaten me," replied Becket. "If all the 
swords in England were brandishing over my head, your 
terrors could not move me. Foot to foot you will find 
me fighting the battle of the Lord !" Evidently he was 
resolved on either martyrdom or victory. A brave soul, 
he ought to have had a better fate ! 

That same night, December 29, 11 70, while he knelt 

384 



in prayer at the foot of the altar of St. Benedict in the Canter- 
grand old cathedral, he was set upon by the overloyal bury — 
knights, and done to death by sword and dagger. They BeGKet 
show you the very spot still where he fell, and some of 
his alleged blood-stains; but the latter seem apocryphal. 
Two years afterwards Becket was canonized by the 
pope, and down to the Reformation innumerable pil- 
grimages were made to the shrine of "St. Thomas" of 
Canterbury from every corner of Christendom. His 
body was interred here in 1220 with great pomp, and his 
shrine was adorned with such magnificence that Eras- 
mus wrote in 1512, "Gold is the meanest thing to be seen 
about it." Surpassing miracles were immediately 
wrought at his grave in the crypt, and at the well where 
his bloody garments were washed. So numerous were 
these, and so well attested, that two large volumes, kept 
in the cathedral, were filled with accounts of them. 
"Every fiftieth year a jubilee was celebrated in his honor, 
lasting fifteen days; plenary indulgences were then 
granted to all who visited his tomb; and as many as one 
hundred thousand pilgrims were registered at a time in 
Canterbury. The worship of St. Thomas superseded 
the worship of God, and even of the Virgin. In one 
year there was offered at God's altar in Canterbury noth- 
ing; at that of the Holy Virgin £4 is. 8d; while St. 
Thomas's received £954 6s. 3d." — an enormous sum for 
those days. A pilgrimage to Canterbury became not 
only a pious journey, but a fashionable summer excur- 
sion, like our outings to Newport and Niagara, and 
Chaucer in his "Canterbury Tales" has given us an ad- 
mirable picture of such pilgrimages, with the manners 
and customs of a party of English pilgrims, leisurely 
25 385 



European making the journey down from London town, and tell- 

Days and ing characteristic stories to each other, seeing which 

Ways could tell the best story, and so escape his "score" at the 

next wayside inn or tavern. So, it seems, "swapping 

stories" is no new thing after all ! 

This worship of St. Thomas continued until 1538, 
over three hundred years, when Henry VIII broke 
finally with the pope and the Catholic Church, and 
struck boldly at all such abuses and superstitions. He 
appointed commissioners to visit Canterbury, and not 
only pillaged the rich shrine dedicated to St. Thomas, 
but caused "the saint" himself to be cited to appear in 
court, and to be tried and condemned as a traitor, and 
ordered his name to be struck out of the calendar of 
saints, and his very bones to be burned and his ashes 
" scattered to the winds. His shrine was destroyed; its 
treasures confiscated, of course — Henry was careful 
about that — and the only remaining trace of it now is 
the surrounding stone pavement worn away by the knees 
of thousands of pious pilgrims before and since. 

It is true there is another account, that his relics were 
not burned, but reinterred; and some remains, found in 
an old stone coffin beneath the crypt in 1888 are be- 
lieved by some to be those of Thomas a Becket. But 
the weight of evidence is in favor of the former account, 
as Henry VIII set out to purge England of all such 
priestly abuses, and as a rule made thorough work of it. 
The story of Becket is really a story of King vs. Pope, 
or of the State against the Church — the Civil Power 
against Ecclesiasticism; and much as we may deplore 
the manner of his "taking off," yet we can not but sym- 
pathize with the Henrys in their vindication of civil free- 

386 



dom and abolition of superstition. Otherwise, where Cdllter- 
and what would England be to-day? Or would we like bliry — 
her to be another Italy or Spain? Or the twentieth cen- The DOfljOIl 
tury to be only the Dark Ages over again? 

Returning from the old cathedral, we stopped at the 
Dane John (or Donjon), an ancient tumulus eighty feet 
high, bounded on one side by a part of the old city wall, 
and surmounted by a little obelisk — now used as a city 
park or pleasure ground. This old mound is probably 
of Celtic origin, and from its summit one gets a good 
view of the city and surrounding country. We walked 
round and about it, and were reminded of the mound at 
Windsor, and of the greater, if not older, mound or 
"Bury" at Leyden. 

We lunched clown in the town near the old cathedral, 
when tired with sightseeing, not far from the spot where 
Chaucer's pilgrims likely lunched in their day, and told 
stones to each other as they did, if not so exquisite, and 
the same evening returned to London. And so ended 
our pilgrimage to Canterbury. 



387 




Chapter XXXI 

N the preceding chapters a good deal has been 
said about England in detail, but something 
remains to be said of England in general. 
And, first, as to her size : she has only about 
sixty thousand square miles, or is a little larger than the 
State of New York or Pennsylvania, less than half the 
size of California, one-quarter the size of Texas, and one- 
sixtieth the size of the whole United States. Of course, 
I speak now only of England proper, Wales included, 
but not Scotland and Ireland. She has only about 
thirty-two millions of population, against our eighty mil- 
lions or thereabouts. She is the most densely-populated 
country in Europe, except Belgium, having live hun- 
dred inhabitants to the square mile, while we have only 
about twenty-five to the square mile. Her total length 
is about three hundred and fifty miles north and south, 
by an average of two hundred east and west. Truly the 
"tight little island" is only a speck in the ocean. But 
she knows how to breed men, and rule men, and has 
made the name of England respected, if not feared, 
around the world. It was no idle rhetoric of Daniel 
Webster's, when he said, "Her morning drum-beat, com- 
mencing with the sun, keeps company with the hours, 
until it belts the globe with one continuous strain of the 
martial airs of England !" 

388 



England, as a whole, is not mountainous, but mostly England — 
rolling and level, much like Eastern Pennsylvania and Agriculture 
Central New Jersey. Indeed, we were often reminded 
of the country about our home at Trenton, N. J. There 
are the same ridges and swells, the same hills and dales 
and fat fields, but fewer patches of woodland. England 
has more scattered trees and clumps of trees — a good 
deal more — in all her landscapes; but her forests, big 
and little, have disappeared, except where preserved as 
parks. Many of these are very spacious and noble, and 
she is taking good care to keep them so. Once the 
whole kingdom was densely wooded; but little by little 
her woodland has been converted into plowed land, 
ex necessitate with the growth of her population, until 
now her effort seems to be to keep what she has left. 
No well-conducted Englishman thinks of cutting down 
an old tree without planting a new one or two; and 
Americans will have to learn the same lesson. A tree is 
the gift of God. It means only beauty and blessing. It 
is always a psalm or a doxology, and should be respected, 
if not revered, accordingly. 

English agriculture is not surpassed anywhere; sel- 
dom, indeed, equaled. Nowhere in Europe are there 
such fine farms and good farming; nowhere in America, 
except in Central Pennsylvania. Her fields are not 
large, but exquisitely cultivated; no weeds, no brambles, 
no unsightly hedgerows, but every foot of soil well 
looked after and growing something useful and valu- 
able; good wheat, oats, and barley; fine turnips and po- 
tatoes; and lush grass, rich and juicy; the very paradise 
of horses, sheep, and cows. The constant clouds and 
mists, and almost daily rains, keep the fields green and 

389 



European fresh, and they have no such brown and parched land- 
DayS and scapes as we often get here in summer and autumn. All 
Ways England, indeed, seems one vast garden, with a master- 
gardener in charge. But the hedges are fewer and 
poorer than we anticipated, and the roads not equal to 
those on the Continent. They are much better, indeed, 
than our average roads in America, of course; but they 
are not superior to our new macadamized roads in New 
Jersey and New England, though her climate is more 
favorable to good roads. Give us fifty years more of 
such progress as we have made the last ten years, and 
America will abound in good roads too. 

The climate of England is certainly not good for us, 
but is far from bad for them. It is a moist, wet climate, 
more or less, the year round, and it rains so easily 
nobody seems to mind it. You get up in the morning, 
and it is raining. By 9 A. M. the clouds will break away, 
and the sun comes out; not a bright and shining orb as 
we see the "king of day" here, but more like a boiled 
carrot or pumpkin. By noon it will be drizzling again. 
By 3 P. M. the sun will peep out again, but by sunset 
it is apt to drizzle or rain again. Of course, I speak only 
of England in September; but I judge this is a fair speci- 
men of English weather two-thirds of the year or more. 
It is not so cold in winter as we have it here, nor so hot 
in summer, but damp and raw, and everybody wears 
thick clothing accordingly, and heavy shoes and stock- 
ings. Nobody seems to mind the perpetual rain and 
drizzle. Umbrellas and mackintoshes are universal, and 
thick-soled boots and shoes, and, with these, people go 
about their business as usual as if everything was sun- 
shiny and delightful. The general health is good. Peo- 

390 



pie are redfaced and chubby. And Americans, when England — 
they get acclimated, rather like the weather, though at Cities 
first they think it "beastly." They have racking winds 
and tempests there also, that often sweep around the 
coasts and shake England to her center, as when Crom- 
well died, and every spring and fall nearly. But she sur- 
vives them, and they only seem to clear her atmosphere 
after all, though sometimes church-spires topple and 
navies are stranded. 

England is full of thriving cities and towns, and the 
number and prosperity of these amaze one. London 
itself contains six million people, or one-seventh of her 
entire population. But she has other great cities; as 
Liverpool, Manchester, Birmingham, Sheffield, Bristol, 
Hull, and scores of cities and towns averaging fifty thou- 
sand to twenty-five thousand inhabitants, more or less. 
Factories, foundries, potteries, workshops, and a perfect 
forest of smokestacks greet you everywhere, and every- 
body seems as busy as a bee and as smiling as a rose. 
The English workingmen and laborers, as a rule, are 
happy and contented, and would not exchange Old Eng- 
land for any other country on the globe. Of course, 
there is some discontent and misery, which seems in- 
separable from human nature. But not much appears 
upon the surface, and as compared with other European 
countries England certainly is paradise. 

The architecture of England is not so good as on the 
Continent. It is superior to that of Germany and Hol- 
land, but Italy and France both beat her in this respect. 
Her cathedrals are grand and sublime, great epics in 
stone, but not so artistic and aesthetic as on the Conti- 
nent. Her parish churches are simple and appropriate, 

39i 



European as if the natural outgrowth of English soil and char- 
DayS and acter, and they always fit in with her gray skies and fat 
Ways fields as a part and parcel thereof. Her city houses and 
buildings generally are solid and substantial, rather than 
symmetrical and beautiful, as if built for use and comfort 
rather than show. There are some fine buildings in Lon- 
don; but, as a whole, London can not compare archi- 
tecturally with either Paris or Brussels, Florence or 
Milan, not to speak of Venice and Genoa, and the whole 
city is black and grimy with London smoke and fog. 
Her country houses are stately and commodious rather 
than beautiful; but their surrounding trees and spacious, 
handsome grounds make up for everything else. Her 
farm buildings and laborers' houses seem small as com- 
pared with ours in America; but they are better than on 
the Continent, and doubtless suffice for England's needs. 
Formerly they were mostly of wood — a good while ago. 
But now a wooden house is a rarity, both in town and 
country. In stone districts they use stone almost ex- 
clusively; but on the eastern coast, and in most of the 
cities and towns, brick also is largely employed. The 
general effect of English architecture, both public and 
domestic, city and country, I think is heavy and service- 
able rather than airy and graceful, and this is no doubt 
due to climate and soil as well as national character. 
Her skies are not Italy's skies, nor is John Bull Jean 
Crapeau, and she has built and now builds accordingly. 
But she builds to last. There is no "gingerbread" nor 
gimcracks about her edifices, and they will stand for a 
thousand years to come, or longer. 

The conditions of life in England are clearly harder 
than in America, but far better than elsewhere in Eu- 

392 



rope. Wages are nearly twice as high as in France and England — 
Germany and Italy, and food and clothing as cheap or The People 
cheaper; rents are higher, but fuel and transportation 
cheaper; and education is substantially free to every- 
body. Religion, also, is free, and while the Established 
Church is predominant, there are so many Nonconform- 
ists and Roman Catholics, that one may believe and wor- 
ship as he pleases. England is certainly Protestant, and 
will never go back to Rome; but she tolerates the mass, 
and protects it — with a mild contempt, however, not 
much veiled. She is certainly a religious nation. Her 
great cathedrals suggest that, as a part of her national 
history. In traveling through England, you are never 
out of sight of parish churches, their gray towers and 
simple spires punctuating every English landscape. 
Bible texts and religious mottoes appear everywhere on 
public halls and buildings. England keeps the Sabbath 
and goes to church on Sunday morning, whatever she 
may do Sunday afternoon; takes a walk in the country 
usually, for Englishmen are fond of country sights and 
country air. Her higher classes have a real interest in 
her lower classes, and illuminate the relation of master 
and servant by many a kindly word and deed. In many 
a church and churchyard it is not unusual to find a me- 
morial tablet or gravestone to some departed servant, 
set up by his or her grateful master in recognition of 
long and faithful service. And even the nobility do not 
disdain or neglect to do this, as we ourselves noticed not 
infrequently. The keynote of all England, taken as a 
whole, seems to be "duty." This was Nelson's great 
battle-signal at Trafalgar : "England expects every man 
to do his duty." This was Wellington's mainstay at 

393 



European Waterloo. This was Clive's and Havelock's cry in India. 

Days and This was David Livingstone's inspiration in Africa. 
Ways This was Wilberforce's and Wesley's plea for the slave. 
Her great motto is, "Fear God and honor the King," 
which with Englishmen only means "Fear God and 
stand by Law and Order." Accordingly, they have no 
lynchings and lawless mobs over there, but every man 
is under the law and protected by it. It is true they have 
no Negroes over there; we saw only three in all Eng- 
land, and these were in London omnibuses, and better 
clothed and better behaved than our average fellow pas- 
sengers. Her courts, indeed, are free and pure, both in 
organization and administration — better than in Amer- 
ica — and if justice be not so cheap, it is at least surer and 
quicker, for high and low, rich and poor, white and col- 
ored alike. Her law and equity cases are all heard by 
the same judges, in the same courts, without extra or 
double time and expense, as in some of our States, and 
we might well profit by her example in this respect. She 
writes the word "Ought" with a big "O," and believes 
in it, and tries to enforce it both at home and abroad. 
Of course, she sometimes fails. But this was her "key- 
note" in both South Africa and China, and her average 
"man in the street" means it just as much as Salisbury 
and Chamberlain. Men look that way and talk that 
way all over England, and while she has some knaves 
and fools, of course, yet the heart of England is allied to 
that "mysterious Power in the universe, which makes for 
righteousness," and she is not ashamed to tell you so. 
And while she "sticks" to this, we may be sure, England 
will last. A century ago when all Europe was united 
against her, and she seemed collapsing, William Pitt 

394 



answered : "I have no fears for the future of old Eng- England — 
land. With God and humanity back of her, she will Government 
stand until the Day of Judgment !" The great Napoleon 
did not think so. But Napoleon died an exile at St. 
Helena, while England was never so potent and prosper- 
ous as to-day. 

But what about her king and aristocracy? Of course, 
I have no sympathy with either of them. They would 
not suit Americans at all. But they seem to have suited 
England pretty well, and to agree with her tolerably 
even now. Evidently Victoria saved the monarchy for 
many years. What her successors will do will depend 
upon themselves. The aristocracy are not all knaves 
and fools, by a long sight. They know how to rule and 
govern — have been bred to that business for gener- 
ations — and know how to give as well as take. On many 
lines they are useful and serviceable to her, as well as 
ornamental, or England would never have tolerated 
them so long as she has. On paper and in the House of 
Lords there seem to be a good many of them. But when 
you come to count them, there are not many to go 
around among thirty-two millions of people. You may 
travel in England for days and weeks, and never see a 
lord or a duke to know it. Of course, you can find them, 
if you want to do so, but you will have to hunt for 
them — with a telescope almost. As a rule, they know 
how to behave themselves and to efface themselves, as 
they do more and more every year. There is nothing in 
their dress or style or conduct to differentiate them from 
their fellow-citizens any more, as there was in the days 
of Elizabeth and Raleigh, greatly to the regret of Eng- 
land's tailors and man-milliners. John Bull thinks them 

395 



European pretty good, if not all right; even intelligent Englishmen 
Days and talk that way. If they ever cross his path seriously, how- 
WayS ever, or menace his rights and liberties, now well won 
and established through long centuries of struggle, why, 
then, good-bye to kings and lords quickly. They are 
already a republic over there in everything but name 
and form, and it will not take long to down with the 
monarchy and up with the republic when once England 
starts, or believes she ought to start. Of course, they 
are only an anachronism in this twentieth century — only 
mediaeval mummeries and the ghosts of things ("Divine 
Right" and all). But John Bull dearly loves stare decisis, 
to stand by the established, and he is not going to give 
up King and Crown, Church and State, just yet. But, 
nevertheless, speed the Republic of Great Britain and 
her Colonies! They give their king about $2,500,000 
annually, besides a dozen royal residences; while we give 
our President only $50,000 and one poor old White 
House; and nobody ventures to suggest, that Edward 
VII is superior to Theodore Roosevelt in either ability 
or character. 

In dress and general demeanor Englishmen are very 
much like Americans of the better sort, and quite dif- 
ferent from average Europeans. They dress mostly in 
sober woolens, as becomes their climate, though some 
affect stripes and plaids. The Derby hat and sack-coat 
or cut-away prevail among all classes, except bank clerks 
and professional men, who stick to "stovepipes" and 
"Prince Alberts," or double-breasted frock-coats. The 
silk hat may be old and shiny, and the Prince Albert 
threadbare and buttonless; but they mark a higher class 
and their wearers disdain to wear anything else. A Bank 

396 



of England clerk in a "Derby" would be a spectacle, England— 
and a lawyer in a sack-coat, or cut-away even, would be SOGJSl Life 
ruled out of court. The average Englishman is not 
inclined to talk, unless you attack England or English 
institutions, and then he is quick to answer, and to fight 
too, if need be. We did not find them uncivil, but little 
inclined to be civil until they got acquainted, and then 
there was nothing too much to do for one. The Italian 
will walk a mile to serve you. The Frenchman will be 
all bows and smiles before your face, and mock at you 
behind your back. The German will be delighted to 
smoke and drink with you, and bear his share of the ex- 
pense — a "Dutch treat." But the Englishman, when he 
gets to know you, will open his heart and home and 
purse to you, and pray God to bless and keep you, and 
mean it, too. Of course, he smokes a pipe and eats and 
drinks a good deal. But there is something in his cli- 
mate that necessitates or tolerates this, and we did not 
see anything like the amount of drunkenness that we 
anticipated. There was wine on every table nearly, both 
lay and clerical, and beer everywhere, substantially; but 
neither was used to excess, as a rule. They said Tem- 
perance Societies were increasing, and temperance had 
much increased; there was less drinking than formerly. 
But there is room for reform and improvement here, 
and Christian England will not lag behind long in even 
this respect. A clergyman we met repeatedly, a high 
ecclesiastic of the Established Church, who drank his 
port at every meal, said he did it because he "liked it," 
and because he believed it "good for him in his advanc- 
ing years." But his wife and sister did not touch it, nor did 
he attempt to influence others that way. It was "the cus- 

397 



European torn of the country," he said; but a custom, let us hope, 
Days and soon "more honored in the breach than in the observ- 
WflyS ance !" The whole country abounds in old inns and 
taverns, but London particularly. Of the old taverns in 
London there are yet seven "Adam and Eves," five 
"Noah's Arks," and as many "Olive Branches," and one 
"Samson's Castle." Oldest of all is a "Simon the Tan- 
ner" in Long Lane, Bermondsey, the heart of the tan- 
ning industry in South London. Here her yeomanry 
gather, when their day's work is over, and talk politics 
and finance, and settle the affairs of the empire. Eng- 
land still holds on to old names and old things, and will 
continue to do so while the bulldog strain remains in 
her blood. 

Your true Englishman is fond of horses and dogs 
and all domestic animals. There are no finer sheep and 
cattle anywhere, though the Hollanders claim to beat 
John Bull in this respect. They take better care of them 
in Holland, blanketing and housing them more, because 
they have to — they have such "beastly" weather there — 
but they have less intelligence, and a poorer soil, and the 
English flocks and herds are simply incomparable. As 
to horses and dogs, the English are away ahead of every- 
body, not excepting Americans. John Bull is "sporty" 
and "horsey," if nothing else. He likes fine horses and 
good dogs, and is eager to spend his money on them, 
and give his attention to them. His saddle and carriage 
horses are really superb, and his racehorses visions of 
speed and beauty. England's great races — the Derby, 
Ascot, Goodwood, etc. — are national events, with mem- 
bers of Parliament and royalty even in attendance, and 
in the season all England and Scotland become one vast 

398 



hunting-ground. Every county has its pack of fox- England — 
hounds or buckhounds, or more, and every well-con- The ChllFGh 
ducted Englishman his bulldog or terrier. Wherever 
you go in the country, you will meet a mechanic or 
workingman out walking, but with a dog of some breed 
scouting ahead or tagging at his heels. The dog seems 
to be a national institution, quite as much as his beer 
or his pipe, and no true Englishman would be bereft of 
either, as a rule. The English women have their "Pugs" 
and "St. Charles Spaniels" everywhere in evidence, espe- 
cially in their parlors, carriages, and on the street, and 
all England may well be termed the very heaven of the 
horse and dog. 

What about the Established Church? Well, it is a 
pretty good Church. It might be a great deal worse, 
but is not. No doubt it was a decadent Church in John 
Wesley's time and before. But that was a century and 
a half ago, and Christian England has made great 
strides in that time. The day of the foxhunting and 
cardplaying English parson is over, and the Church, 
as a whole, sets herself to a nobler life and worthier 
deeds. The curates and rectors, as a class, have high 
ideals, and do their utmost to carry them out. Their 
churches, as a rule, are open every day in the week, and 
at matins and vespers they are faithful in attendance, 
though their congregations may be small. On Sundays, 
however, they have large congregations, and the piety 
and devotion manifested are certainly beyond criticism. 
The music, as a rule, is excellent, and everybody sings, 
"with the spirit and the understanding also." During 
the weekdays the clergy interest themselves in all kinds 
of parish work, such as the sick, the poor, the schools, 

399 



European the jails, sanitation, and they seem to be a body of hard- 
DayS and working and deserving men as a whole. Their stipends 
Ways are not large, and as a class they are poor, though now 
and then rich rectors are found who take upon them- 
selves the burden of a poor parish for sake of the honor 
and the service. As to the higher clergy — the bishops 
and archbishops, who sit in the House of Lords and help 
make laws for the kingdom — they are all rich or liber- 
ally salaried, but they are expected to spend their in- 
comes, or more, in helping poor parishes, struggling 
schools, mission work, and the like, and their high places 
are by no means sinecures. As a whole, they are a body 
of good men, and England has had them so long, copes, 
stoles, chasubles, and all, that she would hardly know 
how to get on without them. Of course, they will all 
have to go overboard some day, "Established Church" 
and all; but England is not yet ready for such a "new 
departure." 

The Nonconformist churches are large — Presby- 
terians, Baptists, Wesleyans or Methodists, Primi- 
tives, etc. — and they have few disabilities any more. 
They lack the large endowments of the Established 
Churches and their ancient edifices, and some Govern- 
ment aid — not much nowadays — but they are active, 
bold, and aggressive, and have more hold on the masses 
of the people than the Establishment, and are lifting 
England to a higher and more modern plane of Chris- 
tian thought and action. Their influence is great and 
increasing, and steadily becomes more so, and it is they 
that will yet abolish all distinctions, both civilly and 
ecclesiastically, and make England a republic one of 
these days. But their radicalism "goes slow" — is what 

400 



a good many Americans would call conservatism — and England- 
it will likely be several years yet before we see a Presi- Its MOMl- 
dent installed at St. James and Windsor. mentS 

England certainly knows how to take care of her 
great men, and to commemorate them. All through 
London and England you find statues and memorials of 
Wellington, Nelson, Chatham, Pitt, Peel, Palmerston, 
Beaconsfield, Gordon, Shakespeare, Milton, Gladstone, 
and others, and America may well take example by her 
gratitude and devotion to such men. Or have we no 
heroes, statesmen, or poets whose memories and services 
we wish to perpetuate? It is true we have Bunker Hill 
and the Washington Monument; but is not our land 
singularly bare of fitting memorials? Perhaps when 
our new "Hall of Fame" (New York) materializes 
more, we shall do better on this line. England has 
not yet erected a fitting monument to Oliver Crom- 
well; but she has some minor ones, and has just 
celebrated his three hundredth birthday, and will yet 
build him a monument worthy of her greatest son 
and ruler. There was a pretty monument building 
for him in London when we were there, I think 
by private subscription. But the time will come 
when the British nation will build a great mausoleum 
for him in Westminster Abbey, where he was buried 
originally, but from which he was afterwards ejected 
by her recreant rulers, and hanged and drawn and quar- 
tered, his body buried at Tyburn among thieves and 
murderers, and his rotting head exposed in ignominy 
and derision over Westminster Hall.* For shame! — 



*His skull blew down in a winter storm years afterwards, and a sentry 
on duty sold it to a passerby for "tuppence" to buy a glass of beer. 
26 401 



European for "Old Noll" was her greatest Englishman. But time, 
Days and at last, sets all things even, and 

WayS "The mills of the God's grind slowly, 

But they grind exceeding fine ! " 

The English have their faults, no doubt, but they 
also have great virtues, and the stock is good. Their 
bulldog courage is proverbial, and is the simple truth 
of history. "Men," said a British officer to his com- 
pany in India, when they were in a tight place, "if 
we retreat, we shall all be killed; if we advance, we 
shall all be killed; if we halt, we shall all be killed. 
Forward, charge!" And they did charge, and were 
not all killed, either; but it shows the racial tendency. 
They simply believe in themselves, and in their "tight 
little island," and are ready to go all lengths for her. 
They fearlessly face France and Russia; but they want 
to keep on good terms with America, and frankly avow 
it. We found this sentiment everywhere in England, 
and Americans and American sympathy were never 
more welcome there. She did not want to fight Kruger 
and the Boers. Never did a nation go to war more 
reluctantly. But she found she had to do it, and "faced 
the music," as we did the war with Spain; and as she 
gave us her sympathies then, she hoped for ours some- 
what against the Transvaal. Perhaps she would not 
get all she expected; but, all the same, she had bared 
her sword for Equality and Justice, as she understood 
them, and for British supremacy in South Africa; and, 
like Grant in the Wilderness, she would "fight it out 
on that line if it took all summer," and all winter, and 
all next summer; and she did — all honor to Roberts 
and Kitchener ! Her chiefs of finance and trade literally 

402 



belt the globe with their enterprises. Her money and England — 
markets fix the currency and prices of the world. With Civilization 
one hand upon Canada and another upon India; with 
one foot upon Australia, and another upon Africa, she 
looked mankind calmly in the face (including China), 
and will have "peace with honor," if she can; but, other- 
wise, will fight for it, if need be. It was something to 
be a Roman citizen, but it is ten times as great to be 
a British citizen; for the whole British Empire panoplies 
and protects him with its whole might and power 
wherever he may go. Already she rules one-third of 
the total population of the earth, and controls one-half 
its surface, and more than one-half of its wealth and 
resources. The "weary Titan" now and then groans 
beneath his burden of worldwide empire — the "White 
Man's Burden" — but he does not shirk, and he sticks 
to his job. Of the same stock, with the same tradi- 
tions and aspirations, with a common voice and a com- 
mon language — soon to be the chief language of the 
human race — with a common Shakespeare and a com- 
mon Bible, both of us great world-powers forever, why 
should we not now and always march side by side in 
the common interests of a common civilization, a com- 
mon God, and a common heaven? War between us 
would be madness. And if ever despotic Europe should 
band together against her, for her destruction, the best 
thing we could do would be to order the American 
fleet to the British Channel; and may God defend the 
right! Of course, I think America a great deal better 
than England. But as compared with other European 
States, in every political, religious, and human aspect, 
England is a hundred-fold superior to them all. 

403 




Chapter XXXII 

E left London, Sunday, October 1st, and did 
not reach New York until Wednesday, Oc- 
tober nth. It was a dull and rainy Sunday 
morning, a true and typical English day; 
and because it was Sunday we came near missing our 
train to Southampton. We had to go that day in order 
to catch our steamer the Friedrich der Grosse. Our 
steamer train left London at 3.30 P. M., and we counted 
on cabs, of course, to take us to the station, forgetting 
London keeps the Sabbath and there would be few cabs 
about. As it was, we barely succeeded in capturing 
two, and getting to the station fairly in time. Here 
we found several other Americans, who had come over 
with us in May on the Aller, and were booked to re- 
turn on the Friedrich der Grosse also. Of course, our 
reunion was delightful, and we had a thousand things 
to tell each other of our varied experiences, not only 
on this first day, but the voyage over. Our run down 
to Southampton was quickly made, through a pictur- 
esque and lovely district of country, with fine farms and 
charming country-houses, and by 7 P. M. we were on 
shipboard, and headed for home again. Just before 
reaching Southampton the sun came out, and a lovely 
rainbow spanned the landscape; a good omen, as it 
seemed, for our voyage. But once out in the Channel 

404 



we found a high wind and a choppy sea, and pretty Return 
much everybody turned in early. Voydfl6 

It continued much the same for several days, the 
sea rough, the weather raw and cold, but no storms 
all the way over. Fortunately we had secured our 
steamer-chairs on the right side, away from the wind 
and scud, and so were able to sit on deck, well wrapped 
up, every day nearly. Porpoises were daily in evidence, 
as on our voyage over; but we saw only two whales, 
and these at a distance. We saw only two or three 
vessels from the time we left Southampton until our 
arrival at Sandy Hook. We made usually about three 
hundred and fifty or four hundred miles a day; but the 
voyage was monotonous, and we were glad when it 
ended. We had nearly one thousand passengers on 
board, both cabin and steerage, and it was not cheering 
to reflect upon what might happen in case of accident 
from fire or otherwise. One day I walked and climbed 
all over our steamer, and counted her boats and rafts, 
and computed their life-saving capacity, and the result 
was anything but comforting and reassuring to a half 
seasick landsman. 

When we got well out into midocean, the sea never 
seemed so grand and sublime. It was not merely beau- 
tiful; it was all that, but something more. It was huge,, 
and vast, and round like Achilles's shield, and terrible, 
and awful. It did not seem to be a dead mass of water, 
but something fearfully alive, and at times ferocious and 
ravenous, as if we were trespassers upon its domain, 
and it would like to seize and devour us. It came at us 
some days with its great mouth wide open, and its huge 
fangs white with foam and wrath, roaring and thunder- 

405 



European ing about our good ship, as if it were a tiny victim; 
Days and and one can never realize how helpless he is except on 
Ways such an occasion. Upon land you are always more or 
less safe, so to speak, even in an earthquake or a rail- 
road collision. But what chance is there on the vast 
and cruel sea, with no ship in sight, and none crossing 
your path perhaps for days or a week together? The 
ocean never seems so cold and pitiless as then, and day 
after day, when we did not see the sun, this creepy 

feeling grew upon 
us. We seemed 
but a speck in the 
midst of the il- 
1 i m i t a bl e and 
fathomless deep — 
a mere atom on 
the wild waste of 
waters — with 
only a pulsing en- 
gine between us 
and eternity, 
plunging blindly along over an unknown sea, and liable 
at any moment to end in a purl or a plunge. I never 
felt so but once before, when lost on the prairies of the 
great West, many years ago, with not a house or tree 
in sight, and no passing travelers. But, even then, 
there was the road, and the old familiar wagon-tracks 
that came from somewhere and went somewhere; 
whereas on the sea, of course, there are no tracks, and 
you come from nowhere and go nowhere apparently. 
On bright days, however, when the sun comes out warm, 
you forget all this, and think only of the intelligence 

406 




A Big Wave, 
A Snapshot. 



and skill of the mariner, and of the might and strength New 

of your magnificent steamer, and of Somebody's super- FOlWdland 

intending providence, and walk and talk or read 

and sleep as serenely as a seagull on the evening 

waves. 

When we reached the banks of New Foundland, 
with their constant fogs and possible icebergs, and our 
great foghorn began to blow day and night, and kept 
it up, it was still more discomforting and dishearten- 
ing. Nothing could well be more dismal and depress- 
ing. Fortunately we encountered no icebergs, but our 
officers were constantly on the lookout for them, with 
a keen appreciation of their danger, and when the fogs 
thickened up or shut down and concealed everything, 
our devoted captain never undressed or went to bed. 
Night after night, and day after day, he spent mainly 
on "the bridge," scanning the sea far and near with 
his glasses, and only left it for needed rest when the 
fog lifted or the sun came out again. One night, when 
asked to join in a social game of cards, I heard him 
reply: "What? The captain of the Friedrich der Grosse 
play cards? And suppose something should happen 
to our good ship while I was doing so; what, then, 
would folks say in New York and Bremen?" This, at 
least, was reassuring, and showed of what sterling stuff 
our good captain was made. 

Sunday, October 8th, we were one thousand eight 
hundred and forty-two miles across, or nearly two-thirds 
way over. We had got out of the fog, and were ap- 
proaching the coast of Maine. It was a cold, raw day, 
with dashes of rain, pretty stiff winds, and a pitching 
sea. At breakfast it was proposed to have divine service 

407 



European in the cabin at n A. M., but we could find no clergy- 
DayS and man on board. Finally it was agreed I must under- 
WayS take it, with the promise of help from others, male and 
female, from New York and Brooklyn. The captain 
was seen, and offered no objection. The ship's or- 
chestra, all Germans, engaged to play three or four 
hymn tunes they fortunately knew — "Nearer, my God, 
to Thee," "Rock of Ages," and "Old Hundred," the 
same in German as in English. Two young collegians 
(fine young fellows) circulated a notice of the intended 
service among the passengers, and the next thing was 
to prepare the service itself. To our consternation, not 
a hymn-book of any kind was to be found on the vessel, 
and only a solitary little Book of Common Prayer and 
Hymnal in English, that a lady had purchased in London 
as a souvenir. However, we found in this a few well- 
known American hymns, somewhat altered, and hastily 
adapting the good old English service to the occasion, 
we mustered our company at the hour designated, and 
had really an edifying and delightful service quite to 
ourselves. A large majority of the passengers gladly 
attended. The smoking-room habitues, even, stopped 
playing cards and put in an appearance; and when we 
got through it was proposed to hold a "Song Service" 
also at 9 P. M., after dinner was well over, and this 
also we carried through, though without hymn or song 
books, except as aforesaid. It was gratifying to find 
how many Christian people there were on board, and 
how much they knew of each other's hymns and songs, 
and everybody seemed grateful for the services. There 
was a Presbyterian Sunday-school superintendent from 
Cincinnati, a Methodist lawyer from Chicago, a Baptist 

408 



business man from St. Louis, an Episcopal physician Passengers 
from New York, a Methodist college professor from 
Maryland, a Hebrew merchant from New Orleans, some 
charming ladies of all denominations from Philadelphia, 
Brooklyn, and other cities, and altogether it was a very 
catholic and ecumenical occasion. Going over, we had 
no Sabbath services at all, though we had three clergy- 
men on board. But, coming back, we laymen and lay- 
women thus "took the bit into our own teeth," 
and made the best of our necessities. And we were 
not left to ourselves altogether, by a long sight, 
either ! 

The next day was warm and delightful; American 
breezes were reaching us; and everybody was on deck 
and in good spirits. Soon a sail appeared in the dis- 
tance astern, and not long afterwards another forward. 
This last we steadily overhauled, and by noon passed 
her. She proved to be the Brighton, a tramp steamer 
from England; but we easily outsailed her. By 5 P. M. 
it was raining again heavily, but just at sunset a little 
land-bird flew aboard, and we knew we were nearing 
home. 

Next day, October 10th, was raw and cold, but we 
gave the captain and crew a vote of thanks at dinner, 
with some little speeches; and afterwards they gave 
us the customary "ball" on deck, with the German and 
American flags lovingly intertwined. The night shut 
down dark and foggy again, with our foghorn blowing 
incessantly, and the next morning we found ourselves 
at anchor off Sandy Hook, having sailed two thou- 
sand eight hundred and forty-nine miles in all. It was 
now warm, but a dense fog prevailed. Now and then 

409 



European the fog lifted, and we found ourselves literally the center 



Days and 
Ways 



of a vast fleet of incoming and outgoing vessels — ocean 
liners, coasters, sailing vessels — and many were so close 
it was dangerous even to move. The fog lifted and 
shut down alternately for hours, and it was not until 
late in the day that we weighed anchor and ventured 
up the bay. We did not reach our wharf at Hoboken 

until 4 P. M.; but 



we found friends 



there faithfully 
awaiting us, and, 
after duly passing 
the custom offi- 
cers, by 9 P. M. 
reached Trenton 
again, safe and 
sound. 

Going over 
u again? Yes, some 
Welcome ^ay, if possible. But I am only sorry we did not go 
thirty years before. Then our observations and experi- 
ences would have stood us in good stead. But now I 
can not hope for many years more. 



410 



INDEX 



Aar, The, 178. 

A Big Wave, 406. 

A Common-sense Account of Europe, 

7- 
Advantages of Different Steamers, 

13, 14- 

Advertisements on the Rhine, 241. 

Afoot in Switzerland, 187. 

A Good Omen, 14, 404. 

Agriculture and Implements, Italy, 
62-85 ; Switzerland, 191-92 ; Tyrol, 
199 ; Germany, 204, 212, 222 ; Hol- 
land, 246-7 ; Belgium, 267 ; France, 
306 ; England, 389 ; Scotland, 336. 

Albert Memorial, 363-377. 

Aller, The, 14; Fellow-Passengers, 
15, 16; Her Dimensions, Equip- 
ment, Supplies, etc., 17 ; Engine- 
room, 18. 

Alva, Duke of, 272-74. 

Amalfi, Road there, 58; Hotel Cap- 
puccini, 59; Situation, Population, 
History, 60. 

American Flag, on the Aller, 20, 30 ; 
at Castellamare, 45 ; at Genoa, 118. 

American on Royal Throne, 98. 

American Consulate, 117. 

America and England, 402-3. 

Amerigo Vespucci, 103. 

Amsterdam, 245 ; Situation, Popula- 
tion, Importance, 248 ; Houses, 
Canals, 249-50; Hotels, Bells, 
Weather, 250; Architecture, Art, 
Museums, 251; Rembrandt's 
"Night Watch," 252. 

Ancient Rome, 67 ; Pisa, 106-7. 

Antwerp, 266; History, Importance, 
267. 

A Progressive Priest, 55-6. 

Aqueducts and Fountains, Rome, 66. 

Arcades, Naples, 40 ; Milan, 155 ; Be- 
laggio, 161 ; Berne, 190. 

Archbishop of Canterbury, 379. 

Ariadne, Frankfort, 230. 

Arrival at Naples, 31 ; New York, 410. 



Arnold, Thomas and Matthew, 349. 

Art and Artists, Naples, 40; Pompeii 
49,50; Rome, 70-1-2 ; Perugia, 
88 ; Florence, 97, 98 ; Pisa, 106-7 J 
Genoa, 118-20; Milan, 150-1-2-3-5- 
7-8; Verona, 125-26; Padua, 129-31; 
Venice, 142-3-4-5-7; Lucerne, 170- 
71 ; Munich, 206; Nuremberg, 215- 
16 ; Cologne, 237 ; Amsterdam, 251- 
52; Berne, 189; The Hague, 259-60 ; 
Innsbruck, 202-3 >* Brussels, 274- 
77 ; Paris, 308-16 ; London, 371-2. 

Arthur's Seat, 336. 

Ascent of Mount Vesuvius, 47. 

"Assumption of the Virgin," Titian, 

it 145. 
Auld Reekie," 339. 

Automobiles, 269. 

Avalanches, First Stage, 179; Sec- 
ond, 181. 



Ball on Shipboard, 30, 409. 
Baseball, Nuremberg, 214. 
Baths, Pompeii, 50; Venice, 

Scheveningen, 262. 
Bay of Naples, 38; of Genoa, 117. 
Beachy Head, 326. 
Becket, Thomas a, 383; 

and Career, 384-86. 
Beer and Beer-Drinking, 
" Beggar Boys of Seville, 
"Belgian Blocks," 277. 
Belgium, 266-67 > Size, 

etc., 268. 
Bellagio and Lake Como, 161. 
Belt I^ine Railroad, Milan, 159. 
Berne, 189, ; Situation, Population, 

Cathedral, Capitol, 189 ; Arcades, 

Fountains, 190; Bears, Clock-tower, 

etc., 191 ; Hotels, 191. 
Berwick-on-Tweed, 336. 
Between Pisa and Genoa, 336. 
Blticher, Marshal, at Waterloo, 281-7, 

2 95-99, 302. 
" Bocconi's," Milan, 158. 



146; 



; Character 

208, 397. 
" etc., 206. 

Prosperity, 



411 



Index 



Boer War, 402. 

Bourbons in Italy, 55. 

Bread, etc., at Pompeii, 48. 

Bregenz, 197-98. 

Brera, etc., Milan, 157. 

Brienz, 178. 

Brick Road Pavements, 248, 262. 

Bridge of Boats, 235 ; of Sighs, 143 ; 
Rialto, etc., 143. 

Brigandage, Italy, 58. 

Bronze Horses of St. Mark's, 138. 

Brussels, 268; Climate, Streets, 
Houses, Walls, 268-69; Horses, 
Tramways, Cathedrals, 269-70 ; 
Palace of Justice, 270; Hotel de 
Ville, 271; Parks, 272-73 ; Royal and 
National Palaces, 273 ; Fire-engine 
Houses, 273 ; Galleries, Museums, 
274-75 ; Art and Artists, 274-77. 

Cadenabbia, 163. 

Cambridge, 328, 355. 

Cambridge and Ely, 328. 

Campagna, Roman, 63-6, 81^ 

Campanile, Florence, 93-4 ; Pisa, 108 ; 
Venice, 140. 

Canals, Padua, 131 ; Venice, 134 ; Mi- 
lan, 159 ; Holland, 246-47 ; Amster- 
dam, 248-49 ; The Hague, 263. 

Canterbury, 378; our "Pilgrimage " 
there, 379; Population, History, 
Archbishop of, 380 ; Cathedral, 381 ; 
Cloisters, Chapter-house, Abbey, 
Monuments, 382 ; Thomas a Becket, 
383-86 ; the Dane John, Chaucer's 
Pilgrims, etc., 387. 

Canterbury Cathedral, 381. 

Capri and Blue Grotto, 56-7. 

Captain Peterman, of the Aller, 30." 

Capua, 62. 

Carbineers vs. Brigands, Italy, 58. 

Cardinal St. Carlo Borromeo, 153. 

Castellamare, 44 ; Location, Popula- 
tion, Hackmen, etc., 44; U. S. 
Consulate and Flag there, 45. 

Castellamare to Sorrento, 52. 

Cathedral, Naples, 35 ; Salerno, 61 ; 
Rome, 75 ; Perugia, 88 ; Pisa, 105 ; 
Genoa, 115; Verona, 125; Padua, 
130; Venice, 137; Milan, 150-53; 
Lucerne, 171 ; Berne, 189 ; Inns- 
bruck, 202 ; Munich, 208 ; Cologne, 
237 ; Amsterdam, 251 ; Brussels, 
269-70 ; Paris, 313-14 ; Lincoln, 330 ; 
York, 331 ; Durham, 333 ; London, 
367; Canterbury, 381. 

Cathedrals, English, 328-30. 

" Cave Canem," Pompeii, 50. 



Channel, The English, 326. 

Charleroi, 280-81, 288. 

Charm of Venice, 147. 

Chaucer, Geoffrey, 379. 

Christ, Heads of, 215. 

City Hall, Perugia, 88 ; Brussels, 271 ; 
Paris, 312 ; London, 364. 

Climate, Naples, 43; Rome, 81 ; Ven- 
ice, 160; Milan, 161 ; Lake Como, 
162 ; Holland, 265 ; Paris, 325 ; Eng- 
land, 390 ; Scotland, 339. 

Cloaca Maxima, Rome, 68, 75. 

Clock- tower, Venice, 141 ; Berne, 191. 

Coast of Spain, 23. 

Coblenz, 234; Situation, Population, 
Monument, 234 ; Park, Bridge of 
Boats, etc., 235. 

Cologne, 235 ; Situation, History, 
Population, 236 ; Fortifications, 
Streets. Cathedral, etc., 237-39. 

Columbus at Azores, 22-23 > Genoa, 
119. 

Cows in Switzerland, 185-86, 192 ; 
Germany, 222 ; Harnessed Singly, 
222 ; Holland, 247 ; England, 327, 

335- 
Crispi's Villa, 37. 
Cromwell, Oliver, 334 ; his Helmet at 

Warwick, 351 ; in London, 401. 
"Custom of the Country," 38, 43; 

Verona, 124 ; England, 398. 
Custom-house Officers, Naples, 31 ; 

Lindau, 198. 

Dairy, A Peripatetic, 28. 

Dancing the Tarantella, 54. 

Death-rate, Rome, 81. 

Decoration-day on the Aller, 20. 

Delft, 266. 

Departure from New York, 14, 

Devil-fishes, Naples, 41. 

Dieppe, 326. 

Dikes and Canals, Holland, 246-47. 

Dogs Harnessed with Men and Wo- 
men, 197, 219, 254, 277. 

" Doing " Europe in Sixty Days, 188. 

" Domine, dirige nos ! " 373. 

Don Carlos, Venice, 147. 

Down the Rhine, 175-84. 

Drake, Sir Francis, 351. 

Dunbar, 336. 

Duomo, Florence, 93 ; Milan, 150. 

Durer, Albrecht, his " Christ," 215. 

Durham Cathedral, 333-34. 

Durham, 334 ; Situation, Population, 
History, 334. 

Dutch Art and Artists, 259-60. 

Dutch in England, 335. 



412 



Echo in Baptistery, Pisa, 107. 

Edinburgh, 336; Situation, History, 
Population, 336 ; Arthur's Seat, 336; 
Castle, St. Margaret's Chapel, 
Mons Meg-, Garrison, 337; Holyrood 
Palace, St. Giles's, John Knox, 
338 ; his House and Grave, 338-39 ; 
Heart of Midlothian, Scott Monu- 
ment, Waver ly Hotel, "Auld 
Reekie," 339; Art and Architec- 
ture, 339 ; Scotch People and Cli- 
mate, 340. 

Egmont and Horn, 272. 

Ehrenbreitstein, 235 ; Situation, Im- 
portance, 235. 

Eifel Tower, Paris, 313. 

Elliott, Sir George, 29-30. 

England, 326 ; language, 326 ; Farms 
and Farming, 327-28, 335, 341, 389; 
Scenery, 328; Cathedrals, 328; How 
Built, 329-30; East Coast, 335; 
North of England, 345; Lincoln- 
shire, 341 ; Roman Remains, 346, 
390; Weather, 347; Peterborough, 
348; Leamington, 349; Warwick, 
350 ; Oxfordshire, 357 ; Berkshire, 
375 ; Middlesex, 378 ; Kent, 378-79 ; 
Size, Population, Power, 388; Land 
scape, Trees, Hedges, 327; Farm- 
ing, 389 ; Climate, 390 ; Cities, 
Towns, Industries, 391 ; Architec- 
ture, Houses, 391-92 ; Life there, 
392; Religion, 393; Courts, 394; 
King and Aristocracy, 395 ; Gov- 
ernment, 395-96 ; Dress, Manners, 
Character, 396-97 ; Inns and Tav- 
erns, 398 ; Horses, Dogs, Sports, 
398-99 ; Established Church, 399, 
400 ; Nonconformists, 400 ; Com- 
memorates Great Men, 401 ; Pluck 
and Courage, 402 ; Boer War, 366, 
402 ; Relation to America, 403. 

England keeps the Sabbath, 393. 

England plants Protestant Churches 
everywhere, 279. 

England and America, 402-3. 

"England expects every man to do 
his duty ! " 24, 393. 

English Canon on Cathedrals, 329. 

"English Garden," Munich, 207. 

English Girls, Switzerland, 186-87; 
Retired Naval Officer, Munich, 210. 

"Famine, Madness, and Crime, "276. 

Farms and Farming, Italy, 62 ; Swit- 
zerland, 191-92 ; Germany, 204, 212, 
222 ; Holland, 247 ; Belgium, 267 ; 
France, 306 ; England, 327 ; Scot- 
land, 336. 



Farnese Bull, Hercules, and Flora, 
Naples, 40, 69. 

Farewell Ball on the Aller, 30. 

Father Neptune, 14. 

Father Rhine, 235, 246 ; Branches and 
Mouths, 246. 

Feeding the Pigeons, Venice, 140. 

Fellow-passengers, 15, 16. 

" Fen Country," England, 335. 

Fiesole, 100, 101. 

Florence, 91 ; City Titles, Italy, 91 ; 
Population, Pensions, the Arno, 
etc., 92; Baptistery, Duomo, Cam- 
panile, etc., 93, 94; the Misericor- 
dia, San Croce, San Marco, etc., 
95, 96 ; Galleries, Art and Artists, 
97; Pitti Palace, San Miniato, 98; 
Palazzos Strozzi and Vecchio, 99 ; 
Loggio dei Lanzi, Fiesole, etc., 100, 
101 ; Ponte Vecchio, Washing in 
the Arno, Shops, etc., 101, 102; 
Amerigo Vespucci, Pavements, the 
Medici, etc., 103. 

Fltielen, 168. 

Fogs and Icebergs, 407-9. 

Foreign Travel, Value of, to Italy, 
155- 

Forum, The, Rome, 73. 

Fountains, Aqueducts, etc., Rome, 66. 

Fountains and Gardens, Versailles, 
316. 

Fourth of July, Genoa, 119. 

Fowler, Rev. J. T., 343; Canon and 
Professor, Durham, 343. 

Fowler, William, Antiquarian and 
Archaeologist, 346; his Drawings 
and Engravings, 346-47. 

Fra Angelico, 96-7. 

France, 306. 

France and Spain at Gibraltar, 29. 

Frankfort-on-the-Main, 227 ; Loca- 
tion, Population, History, 227; Ho- 
tels, Buildings, Streets, 228 ; Roth- 
schilds, 229 ; Ariadne, Monuments, 
Bridges, 230-31 ; Finance, etc., 231- 
32. 

Frascati, 63. 

French Politeness, 319; Vanity, 323; 
Army, 323 ; People, 324 ; Sundays, 
324- 

Frescoed House-fronts, 128, 147, 214. 

Friedrich der Grosse, 404. 

Frogmore, 377. 

Fiirth, Old and New, 219. 

Galileo at Pisa, 106. 

Gallant Defense of Gibraltar, 29-30. 

Garibaldi, 61, 66, 80, 104. 

Genoa the Superb, 113; Celebrating 



Index 



413 



Inripv San Giovanni's Day, 114-15; Illu- 
niUDA mination, Streets, Cathedral, etc., 
116; U. S. Consulate, 117; Popula- 
tion, Commerce, Palaces, 117-18; 
Fourth of July, 118; Columbus, 
Campo Santo, etc., 119; Nervi, Co- 
lumbus Egg, 120; Grottoes, John 
Bull, Police, Horses, etc., 121-22. 

Germans in Switzerland, 184-85 ; la- 
dies Traveling, 204 ; Soldiers and 
Officers, 209, 243 ; Fraulein at Mu- 
nich, 210; Women and Dogs Har- 
nessed to Carts, etc., 220; on the 
Rhine, 242-44. 

Getting off, 14. 

Ghirlandajo, Florence, 97. 

Gibraltar, 24 ; Situation, People, etc.. 
25 ; Batteries, Garrison, etc., 25-26 ; 
Streets, Churches, Wine-shops, 
etc., 26; Fruit, Roses, Flora, etc., 
27; Apes, Caves, etc., 27; Goats, 
Harbor, 28 ; Antiquity, Sieges, Im- 
portance, etc., 29, 30. 

Giotto's Campanile, 93-4. 

Glass and Lace Factories,Venice, 147. 

Going Abroad, 13. 

Gondolas and Gondoliers, Venice, 
133, 136. 

Grand Canal and Del Salute,Venice, 

135- 

Grandeur and Magnificence of An- 
cient Rome, 66-7. 

Grant and Dewey, 129. 

Greatness of London, 372. 

Grindelwald, 186. 

Grottoes, Genoa, 120. 

Grouchy, Marshal, Ligny and Wa- 
terloo, 281-89, 296, 301. 

Gulf of Salerno, 58, 60. 

Gulf Stream, 18. 

Gutenberg, 233 ; Statue at Frankfort, 
230. 

Hague, The, 256 ; Situation, Popu- 
lation, History, 256-57; Houses, 
Streets, Canals, Parks, 257 ; Stat- 
ues, Public Buildings, etc., 258-59 ; 
Dutch Art and Artists, 259. 

Hannibal in Italy, 62, 89. 

Harvests, Italian, 62 ; Swiss, 192 ; 
German, 212 ; Belgian, 267 ; Eng- 
lish, 327, 341 ; Scotch, 336. 

Hathaway, Anne, 352 ; her Cottage, 

354- 

Hawthorne on Oxford, 355. 

Heart of Midlothian, 339. 

Heidelberg, 222 ; Situation, Popula- 
tion, History, 223 ; University, Cas- 



tle, 223-25; Wine-cask, Terrace, 
etc., 226. 

Henry VIII, 386. 

Herculaneum, 44. 

Hofer, Andreas, Tyrol, 202. 

Holland, 245-47, 256. 

Holy Nail, Milan, 153. 

Holy Stairs, Rome, 74. 

Home Again, 410. 

Horses, Naples, 37 ; Genoa, 121-22 ; 
Belgium, 269; London, 362. 

Hotel de Ville, Brussels, 271 ; Paris, 
312. 

Hotels, Naples, 32 ; Pompeii, 45 ; 
Sorrento, 53 ; Amalfi,59 ; Rome, 70; 
Perugia, 87 ; Florence, 91 ; Pisa, 
104 ; Genoa, 114 ; Verona, 124 ; Ven- 
ice, 135; Milan, 159; Bellagio, 161 ; 
Lucerne, 171; Interlaken, 179; 
Murren, 182 ; Berne, 191 ; Lindau, 
196 ; Innsbruck, 200 ; Munich, 209 ; 
Nuremberg, 212 ; Heidelberg, 222 ; 
Frankfort, 228 ; Coblenz, 234 ; Co- 
logne, 235; Amsterdam, 250; The 
Hague, 256; Brussels, 268; Paris, 
307 ; London, 392 ; Edinburgh, 339. 

Houses and Palaces, Naples, 35 ; 
Pompeii, 49; Rome, 65; Florence, 
99 ; Genoa, 118 ; Venice, 135 ; Milan, 
150 ; Munich, 205 ; Amsterdam, 
249 ; The Hague, 257 ; Brussels, 
273 ; Paris, 317 ; England, 392. 

Hughes, Rev. Hugh Price, 365. 

Illumination, etc., Genoa, 115- 16. 

In Track of Columbus, 22. 

In the Tyrol, 200. 

Industrial England, 391. 

Interlaken, 178 ; Location, Popula- 
tion, 178 ; the Hoheweg, Hotel, 
etc., 179; the Jungfrau, 180. 

Inns and Taverns, England, 398. 

Innsbruck, 200; Situation, Popula- 
tion, History, 200; Museums, 
Shops, Houses, Inns, 201 ; Cathe- 
dral, Churches, Tombs, Monu- 
ments, 202 ; Andreas Hofer, Park, 
etc., 202-3. 

Irrigation in Lombardy, 123. 

Italians, hard-working, but happy 
and contented, 63, 84. 

Italian Agriculture, Implements, 
etc., 62, 85. 

Italian Mountain Towns, Churches, 
etc., 85. 

Italian Equestrian Statues, 61, 66, 87, 
104. 

Italian City Surnames, 91 



414 



Jan Steen, 260. 
Jews at Frankfort, 229. 
John Bull, Genoa, 121 ; Munich, 210; 
England, 396-97. 

Kenilworth and Castle, 352. 
" Key of the Mediterranean," 25. 
Knox, John, 338 ; House and Grave, 
338-39. 

Lake Como and Como, 160-61. 

Lake Lugano and Lugano, 164-65. 

Lake Constance, 195. 
'Last Supper," Milan, 156. 

Lauterbrunnen, 181. 

Lawyers, Patron Saint of, 82-83. 

Leamington, 349. 

Leaving New York, 14. 

Leonardo da Vinci, 156. 

Leyden, 263; Situation, Population, 
Old Burg, 263 ; University, Dutch 
Soldiers, etc., 264-65. 

Lido, The, 146. 

Life on Shipboard, 20. 

Life al fresco, Naples, 34. 

Life at Sorrento, 53; Lake Como, 162; 
in Hotels and Pensions, 209-10. 

Ligny, 281. 

Lincoln, 330; Situation, Population, 
History, etc., 330-31. 

Lincoln Cathedral, 330. 

Lincolnshire, 341. 

Lindau, 196; Situation, Population, 
etc., 197. 

Lion of St. Mark, 141. 

Lion of Lucerne, 171. 

Lombardy, 123. 

Lombardy Poplars, 104, 123, 176. 

London, 328; Population, History, 
359 ; Roman Remains, Old Walls, 
360; King Alfred, William the 
Conqueror, 361 ; First Impressions, 
361-62 ; Streets, Street Travel and 
Traffic, Omnibuses, 322 ; Chief 
Places, 363; the Tower, British 
Museum, Guildhall, 364; Bank of 
England, "Old Curiosity Shop," 
Mansion House, Smithfield Mar- 
ket and Martyrs, 365 ; Sunday 
there, 365-66 ; War Meeting in Tra- 
falgar Square, 366 ; Police, 366 ; St. 
Paul's, 367-69; Westminster Ab- 
bey, 369-71 ; National Gallery, 371 ; 
Thunder-storm there, 372 ; Great 
London, 372; Sabbath Observance, 
373 ; London and New York Com- 
pared, 373-74- 

Lord Nelson and Villeneuve, 23-24. 

Lucerne, 169; Situation, Population, 



169-70 ; Lake, Quay, Hotels, Thor- 
waldsen's Lion, 170-71 ; Glacier 
Garden, Rathhaus, Cathedral, Or- 
gan, etc., 171-72; Pilatus, Rigi,etc, 
172-73 ; a Typical Frenchman, 174 ; 
Sunday there, 175 ; Swiss Army, 175. 

Lunch at Fiesole, 101. 

Luther in Rome, 74. 

" Macaroni, macaroni, Senors !" 59. 

Magdalen College, Oxford, 355. 

Magnificence of Ancient Rome, 66-67. 

Maine Lady "Doing" Europe in 
Sixty Days, 188. 

Mamertine Prison, 75. 

Marken, 252; Situation, Houses, Peo- 
ple, etc., 253-55. 

Market Gardens and Farms, Italy, 
62. 

Market Square, Verona, 128 ; Padua, 
130 ; Innsbruck, 201 ; Nuremberg, 
214; Brussels, 272. 

Marvels at St. Peter's, 77-78. 

Mary, Queen of Scotts, 338, 348. 

Mass at Milan, 154. 

Mayence, 233 ; History, Population, 
etc., 234. 

Medici Family, 103. 

Mediterranean Skies and Stars, 30. 

Menaggio, 16X 

" Merrie England," 354. 

Meridian, Milan, 152. 

Methodist Episcopal Church, Rome, 
79-80. 

Methodists, 344-46, 357. 

Michael Angelo and St Peter's, 71- 
77 ; at Florence, 98; his " Moses," 
73 ; his " Last Judgment," 71. 

Milan, La Grande, 123, 149 ; Streets, 
Trolley-cars, Population, Business, 
Art, etc., 150; Cathedral, 151-53; 
High Mass there, 154; Arcades, 
155; Leonardo da Vinci's "Last 
Supper" and Statue, 156; the 
Brera, 157 ; Museo Poldi-Pezzoldi, 
158 ; Bocconi's, 158 ; Belt Railroad, 
Hotels, etc., 159. 

Milk on Hoof, 28. 

Misericordia, The, Florence, 95. 

Modern Rome, 65-66. 

Modern Painters, 275. 

Monnikendam, 253 ; Dogs at work, 
etc., 254. 

Mont St. Jean, 282. 

Monte Resegone, Lecco, 163. 

Mosaic Work, Factory, etc., Rome, 
78. 

Mottoes and Street Signs, Pompeii, 
50. 



Index 



415 



InflPY Mountain Towns and Monasteries, 
1I,Ut5A Italy, 85. 

Mt. Vesuvius, 38, 46, 47 ; Ascent of, 

47- 

Munich, 204; Situation, Population, 
205 ; Art, Galleries, Museums, 206 ; 
Bter and Beer-houses, 207-8 ; Eng- 
lish Garden, 207; Sunday and 
Churches, 208-9 ', Soldiers, Pen- 
sions, etc., 209. 

Murat at Naples, 35. 

Murillos at Munich, 206; at Paris, 
309-10. 

Miirren, 180; Ascent there, 181 ; Lo- 
cation, Glaciers, Avalanches, 182 ; 
Sabbath there, 183; Life there, 
183-84. 

Museo Poldi-Pezzoldi, Milan, 158. 

" Musical Doors," St. John Lateran, 
74- 

Naples to Rome, 61. 

Naples, 32 ; Population, Situation, 
33 ; Streets, Life al fresco, etc., 33- 
34; An tiquity, 34; Churches, 
Houses, Architecture, 35-36; St. 
Januarius, 35 ; Cable-cars, Cabs, 
Horses, 37 ; Pallino Restaurant, 
Crispi's Villa, Virgil's Tomb, Bay, 
Vesuvius, etc., 37-38; "Old Na- 
ples," 34-38; Street Cries and 
Sounds, 39; Climate, Art, etc., 39- 
40; Galleries, Parks, Aquarium, 
Devil-fishes, 40-41 ; Botanic Gar- 
den, Flora, 42 ; Neapolitans, 42 ; 
" Siesta," etc., 43. 

Napoleon Bonaparte, 218 ; at Water- 
loo, 281-303; his Sword, 309; Tomb, 
312-14. 

"Napoleon in Hell," 276. 

National Gallery, London, 371. 

Natives, Marken, 255. 

Neckars, 222. 

Need of Book, 7. 

Nelson and Villeneuve at Trafalgar, 
23-24. 

Nervi, 120. 

New Haven, 326. 

Ney, Marshal, at Quatrebras and 
Waterloo, 281, 287, 289, 293, 295-97. 

No two Persons see alike, 7. 

Nonconformists, England, 400. 

North German Lloyd Lines, 17-18. 

Not "Guide-book" nor "Sentimental 
Journey," 7. 

Nuremberg, 212 ; History, Situation, 
213; Walls, Houses, Artists, 
Churches, 214-15 ; Museums, Foun- 
tains, 216; the "Berg," Torture- 



chamber, etc., 217-18; "Maid of 
Nuremberg," 218; Manufactures, 
218-19 1 Park, 219 ; Women and 
Dogs, "Snapshots," etc., 220. 

Ocean, Vastness of, 19, 406 ; Cruel 
and Pitiless, 405-6. 

" Octroi " Officers, Verona, 124. 

Officers and Soldiers, Italian, 58, 89; 
Swiss, 194; German, 209, 243 ; 
Dutch, 265 ; French, 323 ; English, 
378. 

Off St. Vincent and Trafalgar, 23. 

Ogre Fountain, Berne, 190. 

"Old Naples," 34, 38. 

" Old Cow," Florence, 94. 

Old English Inn, Warwick, 350. 

Old Roman Road, England, 331, 344, 
380. _ 

Old Priest at Sorrento, 55-6. 

On the Sea, 19. 

On Royal Throne, Florence, 99. 

Orange, Princes of, 261. 

Our Voyage over, Chap. I, p. 13. 

Oxford, 354; Colleges and Univer- 
sity, 355; Life there, 356; Ridley 
and Latimer there, 356 ; John Wes- 
ley there, 357; Population, History, 
etc., 357 ; the Thames, 358, 375. 

Padua, 129; Population, Churches, 
130; Hall of Justice, 131 ; Art, Uni- 
versity, 131 ; Ghost of Greatness, 

131- 

Palace of the Doges, Venice, 141-43. 

Palace of Justice, Brussels, 270. 

Palazzo Vecchio and Strozzi, Flor- 
ence, 99. 

Palms, Genoa, 118. 

Pantheon, Rome, 72; Michael Angelo 
and the Pantheon, 77. 

Paris, 307 ; History Great City, 307-8 ; 
the Louvie and its Treasures, 308- 
310; Museums, 310-11; Galleries, 
312 ; Sainte Chapelle, Place de la 
Concorde, Hotel de Ville, Grand 
Opera-house, Hotel des Invalides, 
Arc de Triomphe, Pere-la-Chaise, 
312; Place Vendome, Eifel Tower, 
Notre Dame, etc., 313; Napoleon's 
Tomb, Pantheon, Madeleine, 
Champs Elysees, etc., 314; Ver- 
sailles, 315-16 ; Bois de Boulogne, 
University, National Library, 316- 
17 ; Street Travel and Traffic, 317 ; 
her Boulevards, 317 ; Buildings, 
Houses, Chimney-pots, 317-18; 
Book-stalls, 318; Omnibuses, 318; 
French Politeness and Dress, 319 ; 

16 



Worth's and Bon Marche, 319 ; Ex- 
position 1900,320; Dreyfus Case, 
320-22; French Politics, 322; 
Vanity, 323 ; Army, 323 ; Nation 
and People, 323-24 ; Sunday there, 
324; Grand Dames and Gentlemen, 

325- 

Parish Churches, England, 391-92. 

Parliament, Houses of, 364. 

Patron Saints, 82, 191, 373. 

Pavements, Naples, 36 ; Pompeii, 48 ; 
Rome, 82 ; Florence, 103 ; Venice, 
135 ; Milan, 135 ; Amsterdam, 248 ; 
The Hague, 262 ; Brussels, 269 , 
Paris, 318; London, 362. 

" Pearl of Italy," 91, 148. 

Peasants, Italy, 59. 

Pennsylvania Dutch, 243. 

Pensions, Florence, 92 ; Munich, 209. 

Peripatetic Dairy, 28. 

Perugia, 84; location, Population, 
etc., 85-86; Electric Road, Hotel, 
Mountain Views, etc., 86-87; Cathe- 
dral, City Hall, etc., 88; Streets, 
Palaces, 89 ; Officers and Soldiers, 
89. 

Peterborough, 348 ; Population, His- 
tory, Cathedral, 348 ; Mary Queen 
of Scots and Old Scarlett, 349. 

Phidias and Praxitiles, 277. 

Piazza of St. Mark's, Venice, 139. 

Pigeons, Venice, 140. 

Pigs, Italian, 52. 

Pillars at Venice, 141. 

Pisa, 104 ; History, Population, 105 ; 
Duomo, Baptistery, 105-6; Art, Art- 
ists, 106-7, Echo, 107; Leaning 
Tower, 108 ; Cameo Santo, 109-10 ; 
St. Stephen's, m~; St. Mary of the 
Thorn, 11 1 ; Interesting Old City, 
112. 

Pitti Gallery and Palace, Florence, 
97-98. 

Place de la Concorde, Pans, 312. 

" Places of Refuge," London, 362. 

Police, Genoa, 121 ; Venice, 136. 

Pompeii, 45 ; Antiquity, Destruction, 
etc., 45-46; Vesuvius and its As- 
cent, 47 ; Museum, Streets, etc., 48; 
Houses, Street Signs, etc., 49-50; 
Baths, Theaters, 50-51 ; Excava- 
tion, Sedan-chair, etc., 51. 

Pompeiian Wagon-ruts, 49. 

Pope at St. Peter's, 82. 

Porpoises, Flying-fish, etc., 18-19, 4°5- 

Positano, 61. 

Priests, Italy, " too many," etc., 55 ; 
Rome, 64. 

Progress in Italy, 55-56. 



Protestant Churches, Rome, 79 ; Ven- I n (J p y 

ice, 139; Lucerne, 175; Miirren, 1UUCA 
183 ; Munich, 208 ; Paris, 324 ; Lon- 
don, 365. 

Quaint Mountain City, Perugia, It- 
aly, 87. 
" Quaker Oats " Advertisements, 241. 
Quay at Lucerne, 170. 
Queen of the Adriatic, 91, 132, 148. 
Queer Names, 169, 181, 212. 

Railroads, Italian, 61. 

Railroad Station at Rome, 84. 

Raphael at Rome, 71 ; Florence, 97 ; 
Paris, 309; London, 371. 

" Rapid Transit," Perugia, 86. 

Rathhaus, Lucerne, 171 ; Lindau, 198; 
Nuremberg, 215, 

Religion, England, 393. 

Rembrandt's "Night Watch," 252; 
" School of Anatomy," 259. 

Republic, England, 400. 

" Revolt of Hell," 276. 

Rhine, The, 233 ; Travel there, 234 ; 
Cities and Towns, 235-38 ; Busi- 
ness, 239-40 ; Romance, Castles, 
Vineyards, Wine, 241-42 ; Men and 
Women there, 243-44. 

Riches and Trade of Venice, 133. 

Road, Castellamare to Sorrento, 52 ; 
to Amalfi and Salerno, 58-61. 

Robber Barons, Italy, 63 ; Germany, 
217. 

Rock of Gibraltar, 25. 

Roman Campagna, 63-66, 81. 

Roman Fever, 81. 

Romans in England, 332,346, 352, 360. 

Romanshorn, 195. 

Rome, 64; Population, the Tiber, 
Houses, Streets, Aqueducts, Foun- 
tains, etc., 65-66; the "Eternal 
City, "66; Ancient Rome, 67; Co- 
losseum, Caracalla's Baths, Tra- 
jan's Column, Arch of Titus, etc., 
68-69 ', Old Romans, Reflections, 
etc., 69-70; Art, Galleries, 
Churches, etc., 70 ; Vatican, Sistine 
Chapel, "Last Judgment," 71 ; 
Guidi Reni's "Aurora," the "Dy- 
ing Gladiator,' - ' etc., 71-72; Pan- 
theon, 72 ; St. Paul's Beyond the 
Walls, the Lateran, 73 ; Cappuc- 
cini Church, Mamertine Prison, 
etc., 74-75 ; St. Peter's, 75-6-7 ; Cost, 
Dimensions, etc., 78-79 ; Protestant 
Churches there, 79; Methodist 
Episcopal Church, etc., there, 80; 
" Roman Fever," Climate, etc., 81 ; 



27 



417 



InflPY Pavements, 82 ; Patron Saints and 
11,UCA Lawyers, 82-83. 

Rome from Dome of St. Peter's, 67. 

Rome, the Forum, 73. 

Rothschilds, Frankfort, 229. 

Rotterdam, 266. 

Rouen, 326. 

Royal Exchange and Bank of Eng- 
land, 365. 

Rubens, Munich, 206; Paris, 310. 

Rugby, 349. 

Ruskin on Colleoni Statue, 144. 

Ryks Museum, Amsterdam, 251-52. 

Sabbath Observance, Germany, 208; 
France, 324 ; England, 393. 

Salerno, 60; Drive there, 60; His- 
tory, Population, Cathedral, etc., 
61. 

San Croce, Marco, etc., Florence, 95- 

9 6 - . 

San Giovanni's Day, Genoa, 114. 

Sandy Hook, 14, 409. 

Scheidegg, 184. 

Scheveningen, 261 ; Situation, 
Streets, Bathing, etc., 262. 

Scotland, 336 ; P'arms and Farming, 
336 ; Intemperance, 339 ; People 
and Climate, 339-40. 

Scotch Lakes and Trosachs, 328, 341. 

Sedan-chair, Pompeii, 51. 

" See Naples and die !" 42. 

Seine, The, 306, 313. 

Service in St. Paul's, 365 ; Westmin- 
ster Abbey, 365. 

Shakespeare, 252 ; House, Tomb, Ep- 
itaph, 353 ; Country there, 354. 

Sheep, Holland, 247 ; England, 327 ; 
Scotland, 336. 

Short or Eong Trip, 13. 

Short Cuts, Pompeii, 48. 

Siege of Gibraltar, 29. 

" Siesta," Naples, 43; Pompeii, 45 ; 
Rome, 81 ; Milan, 149. 

Singular Meeting of Friends, 211. 

Sleep during Voyage, 19-20. 

Soldiers at Perugia, 89 ; Munich, 209 ; 
Paris, 323 ; Windsor Castle, 378. 

Sorrento, 53 ; Hotel, 53; Charm of 
Place, 53-54 ; History, Situation, 
Products, etc. , 54 ; Dancers, Priests, 
etc., 55 ; Soldiers and Priests in It- 
aly, 56. 

Soult, Marshal, at Waterloo, 287, 301. 

Southampton, 404-5. 

Southern Italy, Chapters II and III, 
pages 32, 44. 

Spain , First Sight of, 23 ; her Siege 
of Gibraltar, 29. 



Spezia, 113 ; Talk with Italian there, 
1 13-14. 

Strada S. Eucia, Naples, 39. 

Stratford - on - Avon, 352 ; Situation. 
Population, Modern Traits, 352 ; 
Shakespeare's House, 353 ; Harvard 
House, 353; Old Trinity Church, 
the Avon, Shakespeare's Grave and 
Epitaph, 353 ; Anne Hathaway's 
Cottage, 354 ; the Heart of " Mer- 
rie England," 354. 

St. Albans, 360. 

St. Anthony of Padua, 129. 

St. Ambrose, Milan, 153-54. 

St. Bartholomew, Milan, 153. 

St. George's Chapel, Windsor, 377. 

St. Giorgio, Venice, 141. 

St. Gothard Pass and R.R., 166-67. 

St. Mark's, Venice, 137-39. 

St. Paul's Beyond the Walls, Rome, 
73- 

St. Paul's, Eondon, 367-68. 

St. Peter's, Rome, 75-77. 

St. Vincent and Trafalgar, 23. 

Steamboats in Venice, 133-37. 

Strand, The, Eondon, 363. 

Sulgrave, Home of Washingtons, 349. 

Sunday at Sorrento, 54 , Rome, 79 ; 
Perugia, 87; Genoa, 115; Venice, 
139 ; Eucerne, 175 ; Miirren, 183 ; 
Munich, 208 ; The Hague, 278 ; 
Brussels, 278; Paris, 324; Eondon, 
365 ; at Sea, 407-8. 

Sussex and Surrey, 327. 

Swiss Cows, 185-86, 192 ; Soldiers, 
175, 194; Chalets, etc., 184, 192; 
People, 193 ; Railroads, 194; School- 
houses, Churches, 194; Language, 
195- 

Tabard Inn, 379. 
Tarentella, The, Sorrento, 54. 
Tell, William, 169. 
Temperance, England, 397. 
Thames, The, 328, 359, 373. 
Thanksgiving of Columbus, 23. 
The Balcony City, 36. 
The Classes and the Masses, 278. 
The Eternal City, 63-66. 
The Italian Summer, 149. 
The Venice of the North, 248. 
Theaters at Pompeii, 50-51. 
Thorwaldsen's " Eion of Eucerne," 

170-71. 
Thunderstorms, Eake Como, 160-62. 
Tiber, The, at Rome, 65 ; Valley of, 

84. 
Titian's "Assumption," Venice, 145. 
Titles of Cities, Italy, 91. 

18 



"Too many " Priests and Soldiers, 

. 55-56. 

Trolley-cars, Naples, 37; Rome, 77; 
Genoa, 1 17-18; Florence, 100; Mi- 
lan, 150-59 ; Berne, 189 ; Nurem- 
berg, 219 ; Amsterdam, 248 ; The 
Hague, 263 ; Brussels, 269 ; Paris, 
317 ; London, 362. 

Tunnels, Pisa to Genoa, 113. 

Typical Bridges, Venice, 144. 

Tyrol, The, 198; Mountains, People, 
Chalets, 199; Roads, Villages, 
Churches, Shrines, 200. 

Uffizi and Pitti Galleries, 97-98. - 
Unterseen, 180. 
Up the Mediterranean, 30. 
Utrecht, 246. 

Vastness of the Ocean, 19 ; of Paris, 
317 ; of London, 361. 

Vatican, Rome, 71 ; " Prisoner of," 
82. 

Venice, 132 ; Islands, Bridges, etc., 
132 ; Population, Commerce, His- 
tory, 133 ; Canals, Streets, Houses, 
J 34-35 ; Police, Gondolas, Climate, 
J 36-37 ; St. Mark's, 137-39 J Bronze 
Horses* 138 ; Piazza of St. Mark's, 
Pigeons, Campanile, etc., 139-40; 
I,ion of St. Mark's, St. Theodore 
and Crocodile, 140-41 ; Doges' Pal- 
ace, 141-43 ; St. Barbara, 143 ; Col- 
leoni Equestrian Statue, 144; 
Church of Frari, 144; Titian's 
"Assumption," Tintoretto's St. 
Mark, 144-45 ; the Arsenal, Public 
Garden, Lido, 146; Don Carlos, 
Glass and Lace, Art and Architec- 
ture, 147 ; Skies and Colors. 147-48. 

Venus of Milo, Paris, 310-11. 

Verona, 124; Situation, Population, 
Walls, Garrison, etc., 124; Cathe- 
dral, Architecture, etc., 125-26; 
Scaligers, 126 ; Romeo and Juliet, 
126 ; Amphitheater, 127-28 ; Market 
Place, 128 ; Old Water-mills, 129 ; 
Celebrities, 129. 

Versailles, 315. 

Victory, Statue of, Paris, 308. 

Villages and Towns, Italy, 63. 

Vineyards, Italy, 62-63, 84, 123, 132 ; 
Germany, 241. 

Virgil's Tomb, 37. 

" Visions of a Man Beheaded," 276. 

Visit to Engine-room of the Aller, 18. 

Wages, Italy, 63 ; Germany and 
France, 393 ; England, 393. 



Warwick, 350 ; History, Population, IndPY 
Castle, 350-51 ; Paintings, Armor, 11IUUA 
Bric-a-brac, etc., 351 ; Warwick's 
Mace, Cromwell's Helmet, 351; Ad- 
venture there. 352. 

Washerwomen, Lake Lecco, 164. 

Washing in the Arno, 102. 

Washingtons, English, and George, 

349- 
Waterloo, 280 ; Battle of, 281 ; like 
Gettysburg, 282 ; Mont St. Jean, 
282 ; La Hougomont, 283-84 ; La 
Haye Sainte, 285 ; Numbers and 
Kind engaged, 285-6-7 ; Napoleon 
there, 288-89 ', tne Field, 290 ; on 
Sunday, 290 ; Attack on La Houg- 
omont, 291 ; on Mont St. Jean, 291- 
92 ; on La Haye Sainte, 294 ; La 
Belle Alliance, 288, 290, 292-95 , 
Charge of Imperial Guard, 295-6-7; 
Bliicher's Arrival and Attack, 293- 
98; "the Butcher's Bill," 299; 
March on Paris, 299 ; Napoleon's 
Errors, 300 ; Wellington's Good 
Conduct, 301-2 ; Victor Hugo, 303 ; 
unlike Gettysburg, 303-4 ; Mound 
and Monuments there, 303-4; Mon- 
archies and Republics compared, 

304- 

Water Street, Padua, 131. 

Welcome Home, 310. 

Wellington, Duke of, at Waterloo, 
280 to 302. 

Westminster Abbey, 369-71. 

Whales, 19, 405. 

Why Book written, 7. 

Wiertz's Gallery, Brussels, 275-6-7. 

William the Silent, 258. 

Windows, Stained-glass, Milan, 152; 
Cologne, 238 ; Nuremberg, 215 ; 
Paris, 312; York, 332; Durham, 
333 ; Canterbury, 382. 

Windsor, 375 ; Population, History, 
Castle, 375-76; St. George 's Chapel, 
Albert Chapel, 376-77 ; Royal For- 
est, Officers and Soldiers, 378. 

Wine, Italian, 63, 123 ; German, 241-42; 
Wine-drinking in Germany, 242. 

Winterton, 341; Location, 341-42, 
Wesley an Chapel and Parish 
Church there, 342 ; Sabbath there, 
342 ; Home of Ancestors and Rela- 
tives there, 343 ; John Wesley there,, 
346 ; Weather there, 347. 

Wintringham, 343-44; Old Parish 
Church and Rectory there, 344; Old 
Knight in Armor, 344. 

"Woman's Rights," Nuremberg, 
219 



419 



InriPY Women working in Fields, Italy, 62 ; 
1IIUbA Switzerland, 191; "Tending Ma- 
son, etc., Germany, 204-7, 243; Har- 
nessed with Dogs, 177, 219, 254, 277; 
Carrying Hay, Holland, 254; Shoe 
Blacks, Belgium, 278. 
Wooden Shoes in Holland, 253. 
"Working like a Dog," 177, 254, 277. 
Wiirzburg, 221. 



York, 332; Situation, History, Pop- 
ulation, Ancient Walls, etc., 332-33 ; 
Cathedral, 331-32. 

York Minster, 331. 

Yorkshire, 332, 341. 

Zurich, 192; Situation, Importance, 
192-93. 



420 



H f 61- 79 








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